


Harry's Cousins

by speculating



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe, Bigotry & Prejudice, Family, Gen, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 161,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4393256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speculating/pseuds/speculating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dursleys have never wanted Harry, so when he fortuitously stumbles across a book on Wizard Family Trees, he writes a letter, hoping to find another family to take him in, hopefully one that won't mind when he does 'freaky' stuff....</p><p>On Hiatus - Part 1 is complete</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Notable Families of the Wizarding World

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on some nascent Lucius/Hermione projects, and I got a little distracted.... This idea grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go, so I decided to follow it and see where it would lead. (I haven't abandoned the Lucius/Hermione stuff, just set it on the back burner for a while.) Surprisingly, I'm having a lot of fun with it so far.
> 
> A couple of notes/warnings. Lucius and Narcissa are VERY prejudiced, and I didn't try to change that - that's Harry's job. ;) So there's a lot of 'Mudbloods' and 'filthy Muggles' and just, generally, uncharitable thoughts toward Muggles. Lucius, in particular, is rabidly against Muggles. I smoothed a few of Lucius's more, uh, unsavory aspects, but not his anti-Muggle prejudices. Abraxas isn't exactly a nice fellow, either.  
> Technically, this is Lucius/Narcissa, but there's no sex or anything in this one, of any kind, and they're just married, their pairing isn't at the forefront. No super-powered Harry, no Lord Potter, no creatures. Despite my slight alternate character interpreting, I tried not to go too out there.
> 
> I...hope that's all I had to say. I would love to have some feedback on this, so please feel free to leave a comment. I'm very aware that this isn't the only fic of its kind, so if there are any common pitfalls/annoyances in this kind of fic that you can think of, I'd love a heads-up. :) Thanks, y'all, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Brand new shiny title card generously created and donated by ferryberry.

[](http://s536.photobucket.com/user/waseom/media/harryscousins.jpg.html)

The Dursleys had always called him a freak, always said how grateful he should be that they’d taken him in, and how much they wished there was someone else who could and would take him. Harry took them at their word when he was old enough to understand, and began dedicating his limited free time to trying to find other family, somewhere in the world. Privately, he hoped that they were like him--people who could do the things the Dursleys called ‘freaky.’ He thought they were exciting, and he was secretly rather proud and amazed that he could grow his hair overnight or other special things like that. He barely allowed himself to hope that, perhaps, somewhere, he had family that could do special things, too.

Aunt Petunia had never been very forthcoming about family, but Harry had eventually learnt that his grandparents were dead, and they were both only children of only children of only children. Besides Petunia and Dudley, his closest living relatives were fifth or sixth cousins, and Aunt Petunia’s branch of the family had long since lost touch with them, so Harry had no way of locating them or knowing who they were.

His father’s family was even more difficult, and Aunt Petunia flatly refused to tell him anything, assuming she even knew. Harry probably would have gone his entire life without knowing anything beyond his father’s name if it hadn’t been for a fateful school trip to a very large library in London. They had a partial tour, and then they were allowed to explore (as long as they were quiet). Harry had no friends to go off with, so when the other students clumped together and disappeared among the books, giggling and whispering, and Dudley and his friends went over to the few computers and started fighting over the open one, Harry went up to the information desk.

‘Hi there,’ the old lady said cheerfully when he stood on his tiptoes and peered over the edge of the desk. ‘How can I help you, young man?’

Harry licked his lips and pushed up his spectacles. ‘Do…do you have any books about family trees?’

‘Certainly,’ she said, standing. ‘Come on, I’ll show you where they are.’

Harry padded after her eagerly.

‘Are you interested in genealogy?’

He frowned, making her chuckle.

‘Genealogy is the study of family trees,’ she explained.

‘Oh.’ He scrunched up his nose. ‘Well, yeah, I guess so.’

She chuckled again and showed him the books they had. Harry thanked her and began to explore. Most of the books were about famous families and royalty, no one related to Harry at all. Near the bottom was a thick, old tome that didn’t have a label on it like the other books did. It was shoved behind the other books, and it was very, very dusty, as though the library had put it back there and then forgotten about it. Curious, Harry tugged it out and sat on the floor with it.

_Notable Families of the Wizarding World_ \--no wonder it was shoved back and forgotten. It must have somehow been misplaced from the fiction section. Still, Harry hadn’t seen anything about any Potters, and he did enjoy fantasies with wizards and knights and things.

‘Oh, didn’t find anything, huh?’ the old lady said sympathetically when Harry walked past.

He blinked. The book was too big for her to miss, wasn’t it?

‘No, I guess not,’ he said politely, because he’d been taught not to argue.

She smiled and waved goodbye. Harry thought she was just blind--but nobody else saw the book, either. His teacher didn’t see it, his classmates didn’t see it, his aunt, uncle and cousin didn’t see it when he got home. Harry was very confused, but very grateful, as it meant that the book made it safely to his cupboard without being destroyed or confiscated.

The book was really fascinating, even before he got to the part that made his jaw drop. There were all sorts of interesting-sounding people with very large (though often intertwined) family trees that were a lot of fun to follow. The families were in alphabetical order, and some of them had a little star next to their names--these seemed to be the families with the biggest family trees, as far as he could see. Skimming through to the back of the book, he found that there were brief lists of each person’s closest relatives as of 1984, when the book seemed to have been published. It was merely amusing and fun--until Harry found his own family, the Potters, and discovered that he was at the very bottom of the tree.

‘ _Harry James, b. July 31, 1980_ ’ the entry read.

That was Harry’s name, and his birth date! This book was real! How else could they have known about him?

Harry’s heart leapt and his palms began to sweat as his excitement rose. He could find his father’s family now! His every hope and wish had been answered--even the secret little hope that they’d be like him! Because what else could it mean that he and his father, James, and his mother, Lily Evans, were listed in a book of notable wizarding families? They had to be wizards. That was why Harry could do all of the special, ‘freaky’ things he could do--he was a wizard! And any family listed in this book _must_ be wizards, too, so they could do things, too. He had never been so excited in his life--nor could he ever recall feeling this strong sense of _belonging_ that had taken up residence in his chest, warming him from the inside out.

He wasn’t a freak, he was a _wizard_. He’d been right all along--he was _special_.

Hurriedly, he flipped to the back of the book and skimmed until he found his own name again.

_Harry James Potter_

_Last living member of the House of Potter_

_Siblings: None_

_Aunts, Uncles: None_

_First Cousin(s):_

_Abraxas Malfoy (twice removed)_

_Second Cousin(s):_

_Lucius Malfoy (once removed)_

_Third Cousin(s):_

_Draco Malfoy_

_Fourth Cousin(s): None_

_Current Address: Unknown_

Apparently, non-wizard family didn’t count, since they hadn’t listed Vernon or Petunia under aunts and uncles, nor Dudley as his first cousin. The entries only went as high as fourth cousins, so he might have more family than that, but the Malfoys seemed like as good a place to start as any. He liked their names. _Lucius Malfoy_ just seemed so sophisticated and unique--not like _Harry Potter_ , he thought with a frown.

Hurriedly, he flipped the pages back until he found the M’s.

_Lucius Malfoy_

_Heir to the Noble House of Malfoy_

He didn’t have any siblings or aunts or uncles or first cousins, either. He did have a wife, though-- _Narcissa (née Black)_ , the book informed him--and Draco was apparently his son. Lucius’s mother, Corinna Fawley-- _the last of the Fawleys_ , the book said--was deceased, but his father, Abraxas, was still very much alive as of the book’s publishing and was the head of the family. Harry was equal parts delighted and nervous to note that Draco was his age. Perhaps they’d be more likely to take him in, knowing it would give Draco a live-in playmate? Or perhaps they wouldn’t want him--perhaps Draco would be like Dudley and want all the attention for himself, so he wouldn’t want Harry around?

As far as Harry saw it, though, he had no choice but to try to write to the Malfoys and see if they would agree to let him stay with them. He wasn’t sure how he would send it--he was only seven, and hadn’t quite grasped all of the postal codes, and he didn’t have very good handwriting yet--but he was a wizard, after all. Surely, he could figure out a way to send it? He would have to, since he was certain Aunt Petunia wouldn’t give him a stamp.

The next day, while Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were taking Dudley over to his friend Piers’s house, Harry pilfered a piece of paper and an envelope from the desk in Aunt Petunia’s sewing room. It was never touched, so he knew she wouldn’t miss it. He had his own pen--Dudley had thrown it in a fit of rage and it rolled under the settee, so when Harry was cleaning, he’d simply slipped it into his pocket and dumped it in his cupboard later.

Harry wasn’t entirely certain how to address an envelope properly, but he did his best.

_The Malfoy Family_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Wiltshire_

In the ‘return’ section, he didn’t have anything nearly as fancy to write, so he embellished a bit, hoping length would make it sound important.

_Mr H. Potter_

_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

_No. 4 Privet Drive_

_Surrey_

He didn’t know what town or what street the Malfoys lived on, so he left out his own town name, so it wouldn’t look quite so awkward. Now came the hard part--the letter itself. Harry thought for a moment, and then carefully began to write.

_Mr Abraxas Malfoy_

_Mr and Mrs Lucius Malfoy_

_Mr Draco Malfoy_

_Sirs and Madam,_

_I know we have never formally met. I am sorry. I don’t know how to get to Wiltshire, or I would introduce myself properly. My name is Harry Potter. I found a book that says we are cousins, and that we are wizards. I think this explains why I can do some special things that my family can’t do. They don’t like it when I do special things--they say it makes me a freak, and they punish me when I make things happen that I can’t explain. I don’t like to be punished, so I thought if I had family who were also wizards, then maybe they wouldn’t mind it when I do ‘freaky’ things._

_The family I live with now is my Aunt Petunia, my Uncle Vernon, and my cousin Dudley. Dudley is blond and very fat. He likes to get his friends together and they chase me and beat me up. None of them can do special things, so I think they are jealous. I don’t like living with them. They don’t like living with me, either, and they talk about how they wish there was somebody else who would take me in a lot._

_I know this is a lot to ask, but I was wondering if maybe you would please consider letting me come and live with you, please. I don’t take up much room, and I don’t have much stuff. Plus I can do lots of chores--Aunt Petunia makes me clean the house and take care of the garden, and take out the rubbish and do the laundry, and Uncle Vernon makes me wash the car and clean the garage, so I know how to do lots of things, and I would gladly do all that stuff at your house, too, in exchange for food just like here at the Dursleys’. I just want a place to stay and to not be punished when I do wizard things. Will you please think about it?_

_Mr Draco--I promise not to touch your toys. Dudley is our age and he doesn’t like it when I touch his stuff, so I promise I won’t touch yours, either._

_Mrs Malfoy--I can cook, too, and I know how to dust fragile things without breaking them, so you don’t need to worry about me breaking your stuff._

_Mr Abraxas--I don’t run in the house._

_Mr Lucius--_

He thought for a moment longer. Lucius was a little older than Uncle Vernon, but not as much older as Abraxas by a longshot, so he probably worried about the same things Uncle Vernon did.

_Mr Lucius--I am really good at washing cars, so I could wash your car. I don’t cost too much to keep, even Uncle Vernon doesn’t complain about the expense much. Also, I think you have the coolest name I have ever heard of in my life. I wish my name was cool like yours._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Then he carefully folded the letter, stuffed it in the envelope, and sealed the envelope. He walked out into the back garden and looked around uncertainly. He wasn’t exactly sure how he made odd things happen sometimes, but every wizard he’d ever read about had been able to make the things they wanted to happen just do themselves (with the exception of the things the hero had to do, like slay the dragon or overthrow the evil king).

‘Um…I’d like to send this letter?’ he called, not really sure what he expected to happen.

To Harry’s surprise, an owl alighted on the patio table with a soft hoot just a few moments after he spoke, holding its leg out.

‘Oh!’ He blinked, clutching the letter. ‘On your leg?’

The owl hooted again, shaking its leg a little. Harry spotted the tie then, and carefully attached the letter, eyeing the bird warily as he did so. It didn’t try to bite him, though, just blinked sleepily back at him.

‘That goes to the Malfoys,’ he said, just in case magic owls couldn’t read human, only understand it out loud. ‘In Wiltshire.’

The owl hooted again and flapped away.

Harry watched it until it disappeared over the rooftops, scratching the back of his head in wonder. Surely a service such as that wasn’t free? And how had it known to be nearby? Did owls just hang around wizards, waiting for them to need to post letters?

Eventually, though, Harry remembered the many chores he had to attend to and shrugged it off, mostly forgetting about it. For the rest of the day,, he kept jumping every time he thought he heard a hoot, waiting for the unlikely event of a response, but slowly, his hope grew dimmer and dimmer.

. 

\--------------------------

. 

The Malfoys were at breakfast together, as always. Lucius and Abraxas were calmly, disinterestedly discussing the latest in politics, while Narcissa was admonishing Draco on his table manners. When the post arrived, however, all such lessons were forgotten, as Draco bolted from his chair, anticipating his grandfather’s daily request.

‘Draco, would you get the post, please?’ Abraxas said lazily, as always, without looking up from his newspaper.

Draco was already untying the letters from the various owls’ legs, making a tidy pile at the other end of the table. When all was done, he laid out treats for each of them, tipped the few waiting for payment, and began to saunter back to his chair, seriously sorting through the pile.

‘Mother…Grandfather…Mother…Father,’ he muttered to himself as he sorted, his brow furrowed with concentration. However, near the end of the stack, he reached a letter that made his eyes widen with excitement. ‘Look, look! This one’s for the whole family!’ he cried, waving it in the air.

Abraxas grunted, and Lucius smiled at him indulgently.

Narcissa frowned at him. ‘Draco, set it aside and keep sorting. It isn’t polite to keep the rest of us waiting for our letters.’

He grinned, bouncing in his chair. ‘You mean _I_ get to open this one?’ he gasped.

‘After you finish sorting,’ Lucius agreed, gesturing for his son to continue.

‘Yes, Father.’

He obediently set the letter aside and finished sorting the stacks, sliding each to their respective recipient. Draco did not often receive mail, as he and his friends were only seven. They preferred to wait to see one another; letters were reserved for during vacations, when they wanted to tell each other about strange and wonderful things they’d seen or eaten. This was the school year (relatively speaking, since Draco was tutored at home), so letters were very, very scarce.

However, Draco’s excitement didn’t last long, as he was immediately stymied by the return address.

‘Mr H. Potter,’ he read aloud, ‘the cupboard under the stairs? Mother, why would anyone live in a cupboard? And you don’t think it’s _the_ H. Potter, do you? Harry Potter?’

It became very, very quiet around the breakfast table, and Draco found that all three adults had lowered their papers and letters to look at him with serious expressions.

‘That’s what it says,’ he insisted, showing his mother.

Narcissa peered at the front of the envelope solemnly. ‘I think you had better read that one to us immediately, Draco.’

‘Okay,’ he said, sobering at the atmosphere and the adults’ clear concern. Obediently, he opened the letter and began to read. ‘“Mr Abraxas Malfoy, Mr and Mrs Lucius Malfoy, Mr Draco Malfoy”--hey, he put me, too! “Sirs and Madam, I know we have never formally met. I am sorry. I don’t know how to get to Wiltshire, or I would introduce myself properly. My name is Harry Potter”--not _the_ Harry Potter, you don’t think, Mother?’

Narcissa frowned. ‘I don’t know, Draco. Please continue.’

He reddened. ‘Sorry. “I found a book that says we are cousins, and that we are wizards. I think this explains why I can do some special things that my family can’t do. They don’t like it when I do special things--they say it makes me a freak, and they punish me when I make things happen that I can’t explain. I don’t like to be punished, so I thought if I had family who were also wizards, then maybe they wouldn’t mind it when I do ‘freaky’ things. The family I live with now is my aunt, Petunia, my uncle, Vernon, and my cousin, Dudley. Dudley is blond and very fat. He likes to get his friends together and they chase me and beat me up. None of them can do special things, so I think they are jealous. I don’t like living with them. They don’t like living with me, either, and they talk about how they wish there was somebody else who would take me in a lot.” These Muggles sound awful!’ Draco cried, outraged. ‘Punishing a wizard for being a wizard? Who do they think they are?’

‘We agree, Draco, but please finish the letter,’ Abraxas said sternly.

‘Yes, Grandfather,’ he said sheepishly. ‘“I know this is a lot to ask, but I was wondering if maybe you would please consider letting me come and live with you, please. I don’t take up much room, and I don’t have much stuff. Plus I can do lots of chores--Aunt Petunia makes me clean the house and take care of the garden, and take out the rubbish and do the laundry, and Uncle Vernon makes me wash the car and clean the garage, so I know how to do lots of things, and I would gladly do all that stuff at your house, too, in exchange for food just like here at the Dursleys’. I just want a place to stay and to not be punished when I do wizard things. Will you please think about it? Mr Draco”’--he couldn’t help grinning at the personal mention--‘“I promise not to touch your toys. Dudley is our age and he doesn’t like it when I touch his stuff, so I promise I won’t touch yours, either. Mrs Malfoy--I can cook, too, and I know how to dust fragile things without breaking them, so you don’t need to worry about me breaking your stuff. Mr Abraxas--I don’t run in the house. Mr Lucius--I am really good at washing cars, so I could wash your car. I don’t cost too much to keep, even Uncle Vernon doesn’t complain about the expense much. Also, I think you have the coolest name I have ever heard of in my life. I wish my name was cool like yours. Sincerely, Harry Potter.”’

Draco opened his mouth, but when he lowered the letter, he realised that all of the adults were deep in contemplation, exchanging troubled glances, and he closed his mouth again, watching and waiting anxiously. He could ask what a car was later.

‘He’s our enemy,’ Abraxas said at last, heavily, looking every second of his age.

Narcissa let out a disgusted noise. ‘He’s our kin! More, he’s a _magical child_ that old fool Dumbledore obviously put in the care of _Muggles_!’ she snapped angrily. ‘The poor child is miserable!’

‘He made the Dark Lord disappear, Narcissa,’ Abraxas returned coldly. ‘We should be hunting him down and destroying him.’

‘He was just a baby,’ she said stubbornly, waving a dismissive hand. ‘And I have my doubts about the direction the Dark Lord was taking us. He may have done us a favour.’

To Draco’s alarm, Abraxas turned purple, his lips tightening. ‘Blasphemy!’

Lucius cut in quickly. ‘Regardless, what’s done is done, and as Narcissa has astutely pointed out, the boy was only a babe at the time. It’s highly doubtful he had any awareness of what he was doing. It was likely a natural reaction, in self-defence. That points to great power…perhaps latent, but nevertheless….’

That calmed Abraxas, a familiar, calculating expression smoothing over his features. It always made Draco nervous, but this time, it seemed to calm the old man. A cold gleam grew in his eye and he smiled tightly.

‘Very well. If you wish to take this boy on as your latest charity project, Narcissa, I will not stand in your way. Just don’t expect me to welcome the menace with open arms.’

He left the room shortly after, humming to himself. His parents seemed relieved when Abraxas was gone; Draco shared the sentiment. His grandfather was kindly toward Draco, but there was always something cold and dangerous about him, an air of carefully guarded malice that made the hairs on Draco’s neck rise. Draco never quite understood, and his father wouldn’t fully explain, but Lucius often told him that his life would be very different if Abraxas had died instead of Draco’s grandmother. Draco had never met her, as she had died long before he was born, but he thought he loved her anyway--Lucius was always kinder and softer when he spoke about her, and sometimes even let Draco climb into his lap while he talked about her, which he did not allow very often at all.

Narcissa turned to Lucius anxiously as soon as Abraxas was gone.

‘They’re punishing him for his accidental magic, Lucius,’ she said softly, ‘and who knows what else. Isn’t it our duty to rescue him--a half-blood, even if his father was a blood traitor who went and married a Muggle--from the care of those Muggles? He’s being denied his heritage, a heritage he has every right to, despite his father’s despicable choices.’

Lucius did not answer right away, staring into space with a thoughtful expression, so Draco decided that perhaps it was time for him to put in his own opinion.

‘I wouldn’t mind having someone my age around,’ he said tentatively, quailing a bit when his parents whipped around to look at him sharply, having clearly forgotten he was there. ‘I mean, I could teach him about being a proper wizard, and it would be fun to have someone to play with whenever I want.’

He and his friends could only get together every month or so, and he got very lonely sometimes.

His parents exchanged a glance, and Lucius’s expression softened. Narcissa smiled brightly, patting Draco’s knee under the table.

‘Preparations will have to be made,’ Lucius said finally, reluctantly. ‘The house elves will have to prepare a bedroom for him, and I will need to spend the day checking into the legalities. We will answer him tomorrow, after I’ve ensured that we can legally take custody of him.’

‘You’re a darling man,’ said Narcissa sweetly, and went around the table to kiss his cheek.

Draco grinned as his father turned pink, clearing his throat repeatedly.

‘Well,’ said Lucius. ‘Well.’

And he went away, muttering to himself.

‘Why does Father always get so embarrassed when we touch him?’ Draco wondered.

His father reacted much the same way on the rare occasions that Draco forgot himself enough to pounce on him and wrap him in a big hug, often accompanied by proclamations of affection.

‘Look at Grandfather,’ Narcissa pointed out, smiling and smoothing her son’s hair. ‘Your father wasn’t exactly raised with our kind of love.’

‘Oh,’ said Draco. ‘That makes sense.’

He snuggled gladly into his mother’s hug, and was glad Grandfather wasn’t _his_ father.

‘Yes, it does. So take it easy on your father when he doesn’t know what to say to “I love you,” okay?’

He grinned. ‘Yes, Mother.’

Lucius’s reaction to ‘I love you’ generally ran along the lines of ‘Well, all right then.’ Draco had recently taken to responding by bursting into noisy, fake tears and running from the room shrieking that ‘Father hates me!’ If Abraxas wasn’t around, that is. Lucius had been utterly bewildered every time it happened. This was his mother’s gentle way of asking Draco not to do that anymore.

‘You don’t think Grandfather will hurt Harry, do you, Mother?’ he asked quietly.

Narcissa’s expression turned grim, and she hugged Draco a little tighter. ‘We won’t let him.’

Draco was immediately reassured, and determined not to let anything happen to his new playmate, either. He’d been so touched by Harry’s inclusion of him in the letter, and his promise not to touch Draco’s things (which was ridiculous, because how could they play together if they couldn’t both touch the toys?), that Draco was already instantly taken with him, and determined that Harry would be his Best Friend. Blaise and Theodore were Best Friends, but nobody had ever wanted to be Draco’s, which had made him jealous, but now he wouldn’t have to be, anymore.

\-----------------------------

Lucius was very torn on the issue of Harry Potter. On the one hand, the boy was a half-blood--a living representation of everything wrong with the world. The very idea of having some _mongrel_ \--nearly, in Lucius’s view, a _half-breed_ , like Flitwick or Hagrid--living in his father’s house with _his_ family made his hackles rise and his lip curl with disgust.

…But on the other hand…. This wasn’t just _any_ half-blood, it was the Boy Who Lived. This altered the situation in a couple of different ways. The first and most important was, naturally, how an association between the Malfoy family and the Boy Who Lived would be perceived. By those in the pure-blood supremacist camp, it would most probably be regarded as a sly move. They would see it as a way of ingratiating the Malfoys with the rest of the wizarding world while simultaneously keeping the Dark Lord’s quarry close in anticipation of his return--or perhaps a realignment with someone who was possibly more powerful than the Dark Lord. Either way, they would be impressed and envious, rather than perturbed--with the exception of Bellatrix, naturally, but since she was in Azkaban, Lucius wasn’t concerned with her opinion.

By the rest of the wizarding world, such a move was likely to be regarded as a power play. Bringing the Boy Who Lived over to the pure-blood side would be quite a coup….

Lucius shook his head of the thought. While it was _extremely_ tempting to try to groom Harry Potter into a weapon for the Malfoys and the pure-blood cause, Lucius thought the danger of creating a new, possibly more powerful Dark Lord was too great a risk. He still did not understand what had occurred that night at Godric’s Hollow, any more than the rest of Wizarding Britain seemed to, and a part of him remained afraid of whatever terrible power the boy _might_ possess. Harry Potter had, according to popular wisdom, caused the Dark Lord to _vanish_ , without a trace, and if he was in fact responsible…. Well, Lucius had no desire to provoke such a power, intentionally or otherwise.

Regardless, even those who hated the Malfoys were likely to be more solicitous and possibly more respectful, with the Boy Who Lived on their side. That could only be a good thing.

Then there was the fact that he had made the Dark Lord disappear, apparently. If that was the case, which all the signs pointed to, then Lucius owed Harry Potter a debt of gratitude. He couldn’t show his distaste for the Death Eaters openly with his father still around, but Lucius had not joined them willingly. First of all, he thought they were, despite being pure-blood, no more than common rabble. They were uncouth and brutal and altogether the _opposite_ of the pure-blood ideal, if one could be so without actually being a Muggle. He thought their behaviour reprehensible and beneath him--Lucius had always envisioned subjugating Muggles, but in a more peaceful, more elegant way. They were Slytherins, for the most part--surely they were capable of using cunning, rather than brute force, terror, and cruelty to achieve their goals?

But Abraxas had made it clear that Lucius had no choice in the matter--he could join the Death Eaters, as his father wished, or he could have his wand snapped and be forcefully ejected into the Muggle world, utterly disowned and forsaken. Lucius hadn’t been able to consider living as a Muggle--the very thought made him shudder with horror. He had joined, grudgingly, and he still carried his resentment toward his father, though he was careful not to show it. He was determined that Draco would not suffer the same fate. He wouldn’t be forced to kneel to some half-blood madman (which was the ‘second of all’ in Lucius’s inner diatribe--their so-called ‘Dark Lord’ was a half-blood himself, Lucius had discovered through a little surreptitious research after being entrusted with a peculiar diary, and while he couldn’t tell anyone for fear of his life, it made him burn with fury every time he was forced to prostrate himself before the powerful pretender). No, _his_ son would lead a life of dignity and respectability--and freedom.

That was the most important thing. While Lucius did his best to instill his own ideals in Draco, ultimately he believed that his son should make his own choices. He didn’t want to be like Abraxas--he wanted Draco to choose the pure-blood cause because it was what _he_ wanted, not because Lucius had threatened him with banishment. And if Draco did _not_ choose to uphold Lucius’s ideals, well…Lucius couldn’t pretend it would make him happy, but he would have to accept it anyway.

Which brought him to his next thought, a thought that made him soften in spite of himself. He knew Draco was often lonely, and his hopeful expression still sent a pang through Lucius’s chest. He deliberately kept Draco’s visits with his friends to a minimum so he wouldn’t have to see their Death Eater parents, whom he secretly despised, and so he felt responsible. He and Narcissa had been horribly unsuccessful in their attempts to have another child--Draco was the only one out of more miscarriages and stillbirths than Lucius cared to recall who’d been carried to term and then been born alive and healthy--so that, too, made him feel responsible. A half-blood playmate was better than none at all, and since they would have custody of him, the boy would be there all the time, whenever Draco wished for company. Additionally, Draco had had a good point about him being able to teach the boy how to behave like a proper wizard. It was highly doubtful those _Muggles_ had taught him any manners--it would be good for the Boy Who Lived to have some training before he went to Hogwarts.

And that was another thought. Much as he disdained the boy’s half Muggle heritage, Narcissa had a point--Harry Potter _was_ half pure-blood as well, from a well-respected family, and kin at that. Closer kin than anyone outside his immediate family, actually. The boy was one of a very, very small handful of cousins closer than fourths. He could only think of five off the top of his head. It was one of the side effects of coming from a long line of only children; while the Malfoys had married into having cousins, there had been no second child for over six generations now, and Lucius’s mother had been an only child as well, so he had no first cousins. Harry Potter was his second cousin once removed, thanks to his grandfather marrying a Potter girl (whose family had been displeased with her choice, to say the least), and the other four he could think of were third cousins.

That half that was pure-blood…that was the half that made Lucius feel guilty. Narcissa was right--despite James Potter’s despicable, disgusting decision to marry a girl of no family, it wasn’t his son’s fault, and there was no reason he should suffer for his father’s mistakes. It was Lucius’s duty to take his cousin in hand, to teach him the ways of a proper wizard. No wizard child should be brought up by _Muggles_ , he thought to himself with a sneer. It was clear from the boy’s letter that the Muggles were too stupid to realise how honoured they should have been that a wizard would deign to live amongst them. Honestly, punishing the boy for his outbursts of accidental magic? One might as well punish him for breathing, for he could help it just as much.

Ultimately, while Harry Potter may be only half-blood, he was still of much too good a family to be entrusted to some filthy Muggles, and Lucius made his decision--he would rescue the boy, at any cost, and bring him back into the world where he rightfully belonged.


	2. To Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry learns the ropes of his new home, meets all of his cousins, and gains a hero; Lucius encounters Muggles and loses his temper; Narcissa gains a surrogate son; and Draco puts his foot in his mouth a couple times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prejudices/bigotry warning still applies. If anything, it's worse, as the Dursleys' treatment of Harry isn't exactly a good pro-Muggle advertisement to the Malfoys.
> 
> And just to reinforce: Harry is NOT super-powered. Lucius initially thinks he is, but he's mistaken. The power Lucius senses IS coming from Harry, but it's not all Harry's, if that makes sense. Mostly, the mix-up is here to keep Lucius and Abraxas interested in Harry's case.
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoy! :) Any feedback at all--good, bad, meh--is very welcome.

The Ministry had no records of Harry Potter’s whereabouts whatsoever, not even copies of Muggle custody papers or anything of that sort. Lucius wasn’t surprised; if they’d known where he was, they would have been flaunting that knowledge at every opportunity. Fudge, in particular, wouldn’t have been able to resist acting like the smuggest cat who’d caught the best canary, trying clumsily to use it as the ace up his sleeve--in other words, Lucius would have known or been able to figure out where the boy was five minutes after Fudge was informed.

He was slightly disturbed, however, as the lack of Muggle paperwork indicated that he’d simply disappeared from the system. Someone, likely Dumbledore, had essentially erased him from existence, as far as adoption and custody went. Lucius was also pleased, though, because the lack of any kind of paperwork meant that the Muggles had no legal standing to keep the boy, even if they wanted to. They had never adopted him, never signed any custody papers taking responsibility for him, so Harry Potter technically had no legal guardian. Oh, everyone knew that Sirius Black was his godfather, as appointed by the Potters, but since he was in Azkaban, the likelihood of him staking his claim was nil, and his was the only claim that would hold more weight than Lucius’s. The Muggles might technically have a claim in the Muggle system, but that was laughable--Lucius could make them forget they ever had a nephew without turning a hair.

The lack of legal hurdles simplified the whole thing a great deal. He checked with the house elves that evening and discovered that they had finished preparing the bedroom next to Draco’s--they had even added an adjoining door that could lock from either side so both boys would have company when they desired it. Lucius pronounced himself pleased and went to his study to write a response to the Boy Who Lived.

Three scrapped drafts later, Lucius scowled at his fraying quill and tossed it aside. The door opened while he was rummaging through the drawer for a new one.

‘What’s wrong, Lucius?’ Narcissa asked kindly, perching on the edge of the desk. ‘Is there a complication with the Muggles?’

‘Hmm?’ He looked up, his frown deepening. ‘Oh, them--no, they have no legal claim on him. It is as simple as sending the boy a letter and train fare to Wiltshire.’

He went back to rummaging.

‘Lucius, darling…I don’t think we should trust a seven-year-old boy to find his way to Wiltshire on his own,’ she said delicately.

He froze, and the mental image of _Draco_ trying to find his way to, say, Liverpool via Muggle trains popped into his head. Alarms immediately began to wail in his mind, shrieking TERRIBLE IDEA.

‘You’re right--I’ll write the boy a letter informing him that I will fetch him tomorrow myself,’ he said firmly, and finally found a quill that pleased him.

Narcissa smiled encouragingly, but once again, Lucius found himself frozen with the quill poised above the paper, his mind utterly blank.

‘What now?’

Lucius looked up at her somewhat helplessly. ‘What do I _say_?’

She laughed, patting his shoulder. ‘Oh, darling. What would you say to Draco?’

He blinked. ‘I would say, “What in the name of all things magical are you doing in Surrey? Don’t you dare move a muscle, I’m coming to get you directly.”’

Narcissa’s mouth twitched as she suppressed another laugh. ‘You’re right, that won’t do at all. Why don’t you write something off the top of your head, and I’ll look it over for you afterward?’

He relaxed a fraction at that. Narcissa always knew what to say in any situation, and she was much better with children than he was, so the thought of her revising the letter for him was a great comfort.

‘That would be acceptable,’ he said gratefully.

He got to work, and three drafts later, Narcissa finally pronounced that he could rewrite it as-is and send it.

 

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_My family and I would be delighted to have you. We have plenty of extra space, so the amount of room you use is irrelevant. Draco extends his hope that you will be willing to play with him._

_I will be arriving to collect you and your belongings at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning. Please assist me by being ready to leave at that time._

_We are most eager to meet you, cousin._

_Sincerely,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

He couldn’t help but put an extra flourish under his name; he was more than a little pleased that Harry Potter had been so impressed by it. Narcissa’s lips quirked with amusement, but she refrained from comment.

‘You’re certain I don’t need to add anything else?’ he pressed anxiously.

She shrugged elegantly. ‘There isn’t much else to say until we meet him.’

Lucius accepted the truth of that and sent the letter to Surrey.

.

\-------------------------

.

Harry very nearly passed out with excitement when a beautiful, enormous owl landed on the patio table, a small envelope attached to its leg. After a gasped breath, he bolted out into the garden, dimly registering Aunt Petunia’s dismayed shriek behind him.

The owl observed him regally. Harry slowed his approach, feeling suddenly nervous at the large, steady eyes and the sharp beak turned in his direction.

‘May I have my letter, please?’ he asked, wringing his hands, when he’d stopped before the owl and it hadn’t moved. ‘I’m Harry.’

The owl eyed him for a moment longer, seemed to nod to itself, and then shifted, holding its leg out to Harry. He delicately retrieved the envelope, and the owl took to the air immediately, dismissing his existence. Harry was used to that and hardly noticed. Instead he turned his attention to the envelope, ripping it open enthusiastically and scanning its contents rapidly, his hands shaking and his heart feeling like it might pound its way right out of his chest. A grin spread across his face as the words sank in, his cheeks aching with the force of it.

‘They want me,’ he whispered.

They did. They _had_ to-- _we are most eager to meet you_ , Mr Malfoy had written. Harry had finally found people who wouldn’t mind having him around.

He hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind him, so he jumped when the letter was plucked from his hand and Aunt Petunia roughly steered him back into the house, sliding the door shut against the cold behind them. Her lips were set in a thin line and she’d never looked so white--that Harry could recall, at least. He shivered with fear, but she didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at him, and Uncle Vernon herded him and Dudley out into the hallway and shut the kitchen door without saying anything, either. The boys exchanged a glance and pressed their ears to the door, Dudley shoving Harry every now and then.

‘How on earth did he get in touch with those--those--’ Uncle Vernon sputtered.

Aunt Petunia’s voice was tight and controlled. ‘It doesn’t matter. The question is, what will _he_ do if he finds out?’

A pause. Uncle Vernon sounded uncharacteristically uncertain when he spoke.

‘We could simply forbid this _Lucius_ fellow to take Harry, make him stay here--’

‘My sister mentioned the Malfoys once, and only once--they are not the type of people to be forbidden to do anything, and they are not the kind who ought to be meddled with.’

‘Then we just don’t tell him and he won’t know Harry ever left.’

‘He’ll _know_ , Vernon. Almost immediately. A few days, at most.’

Another pause, this one longer.

‘Then we’ll move. We’ll start packing tonight, and Harry can go with that man in the morning, and as soon as we’ve finished our packing, we’ll leave. We won’t tell anyone where we’re going.’

Aunt Petunia didn’t seem to have a response to that, or at least not a verbal one. The door was suddenly thrown open, and Dudley was rushed up the stairs by his mother, who was going on about packing. Uncle Vernon stood before Harry, holding a black plastic bin liner.

‘Here, boy,’ he said gruffly. ‘For your things.’

Harry took it, unable to contain his grin, and ran to his cupboard to begin packing his meagre belongings.

.

\---------------------------

.

Lucius stepped onto Privet Drive with a disgusted sneer firmly affixed to his face. He had never in his life entered an area that was so thoroughly _Muggle_ \--all the houses were identical, new and bland and featureless. The ugly, noisy boxes known as _automobiles_ squatted in the driveways or rumbled past him obnoxiously. Muggles stood in their gardens, running very _loud_ pieces of equipment or gathering up debris that had accumulated over the winter, all of them in offensively _Muggle_ clothes. They gave him curious looks as he swept past them, but he paid them no mind.

All of it hardened his resolve--this Muggle, horribly _cultureless_ neighbourhood was no place for a _wizard_ to grow up, even one of only half blood. He couldn’t even _feel_ any magic here--save for Number Four.

The sheer power of it gave Lucius pause. He stood on the sidewalk just down from the house, staring at it intently as he gave his full attention to the magic emanating from the property. Part of it was wards and alarms, and another part--a _large_ part--was some kind of shield he didn’t recognise. Whatever it was, it was ten times more powerful than any of the wards, and made the hairs on his arms rise….

And the rest could only be Harry Potter. Lucius shivered as he registered the boy’s magic--it had nothing to do with the cold. No seven-year-old had _that_ much power. His magical aura felt more like that of a boy twice his age.

No--whatever Abraxas thought, whatever the rest of the wizarding world thought, this was not a boy to be toyed with, to be played like a pawn. He had the potential to be very, very dangerous--much too dangerous to be moulded so obviously and so indelicately. Lucius would take in his young cousin, shelter him and raise him and teach him--and he would hope that the kindness would be enough to protect the family, should Harry Potter ever turn Dark.

And Lucius would carefully--oh-so carefully--disassociate himself and his family from the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, regardless of what Abraxas had to say about it. He’d already laid the groundwork the first time by pretending he’d been under the Imperius Curse, so all he had to do was continue to widen the crack between them from there. Not to do so was unthinkable--if Harry Potter grew up and came into his full power, and set his sights on the Dark Lord, who’d killed his parents, and decided to exact his revenge on anyone who sided with the Dark Lord while he was at it….

Lucius shivered again and forced himself to step forward, shaking those thoughts away for the moment. Surprisingly, none of the wards stopped him, and he didn’t detect any of the alarms going off--even the strange, powerful shield only made his skin tingle as he passed through it, but evidently he met whatever condition it required to gain admittance. It was precisely nine when he rapped on the door with his cane. A thin, flimsy thing--he could’ve easily blasted the door to smithereens, but resisted out of a desire to make this trip as brief and painless as possible.

The door was flung open by an irritated-looking blonde woman with an overly long neck. Her pinched expression faded into one of shock and fear as she absorbed Lucius’s appearance, and she stumbled back from the door. He chose to take it as an invitation and coolly swept into the front hall, sneering at his surroundings as mildly as he could.

‘Where is Mr Potter?’ he demanded shortly.

To his horror, the ugly Muggle actually did walk over to a literal cupboard under the stairs and opened the door.

‘He’s here,’ she said shortly to the interior of the cupboard.

A little gasp, and then the small boy emanating all that power hopped out of the dust and the gloom, dragging a black crinkly bag after him. He shoved up a pair of overly-large, broken spectacles and looked up at Lucius with a mixture of fear, awe, and worship.

Harry Potter scampered over to his side. ‘Mr Malfoy?’

‘Please,’ he said as gently as he knew how. ‘You may call me Lucius, Mr Potter.’

The boy’s nose wrinkled, but he looked delighted, his startlingly green eyes glowing. Lucius had never in his life seen eyes that green.

‘I’m just Harry, Cousin Lucius,’ he said shyly, shuffling his feet and running a hand through his messy black hair.

_Cousin Lucius_. Spoken so respectfully, reverently. Lucius felt oddly touched, and he cleared his throat, straightening with a deliberately disdainful glance at Harry’s aunt.

‘Say goodbye, Harry.’

Harry immediately did as he was told, bidding farewell first to the horrible woman, and then to a giant walrus and his slightly-shorter son when they appeared.

‘Bye, Harry,’ his Muggle cousin said, and punched Harry in the stomach.

Harry merely grunted, but Lucius had his wand out in a second. The woman shrieked and wrapped her arms around her spawn.

‘Come, Harry,’ Lucius said.

He’d had more than enough of being in this terrible place.

Harry picked up his bag and followed Lucius out onto the lawn and down the street, careful not to step on Lucius’s flowing cloak. The Muggles on either side gawked at them until they turned the corner, headed for the park Lucius had chosen to arrive in. It would suit his purposes equally well for Apparating out.

‘Sir?’ the boy panted as he scampered after him. ‘I mean, Cousin Lucius?’

Lucius drew a slow, deep breath and forced himself to slow his pace. He was eager to get back home with his new charge, but running the legs off the boy wasn’t a very good start to their relationship.

‘Yes, Harry?’ he said, making an effort to soften his usual curt, impatient tone.

‘Thank you for coming to get me, Cousin Lucius,’ he said warmly, happily--with the innocent gratitude and relief of a little boy. Despite his immense power (which he seemed completely unaware of), that was all he really was.

Lucius felt his mouth curling into a smile against his will. ‘You are most welcome, Harry.’

He couldn’t blame the boy for wanting to be rescued from those _Muggles_.

.

\--------------------

.

‘Now, Harry,’ said his tall, blond, dashing, splendid wizard cousin. Truly, Lucius was greater than Harry ever could have dreamed! He was dressed head to foot in fine flowing robes that looked a great deal more expensive than anything Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon had ever bought for themselves--even Uncle Vernon’s meeting suits that he bought specially to impress potential clients weren’t nearly as fine. There was little decoration to his outfit--nothing flashy or showy like his aunt and uncle would have--but what there was appeared to Harry to be intricate and delicate and impossibly fine. He was particularly impressed by the silver cufflinks flashing at his cousin’s wrists, a pair of tiny snakes coiled to strike. He carried a black and silver cane--from which had emerged his magic wand when Dudley hit him, which had impressed Harry so much he’d let his mouth hang open until Lucius ordered him to come along. Lucius’s blond hair was long and neatly groomed and shining, completely unlike his own messy black hair. His aunt, uncle and cousin all had blond hair, too, but it somehow wasn’t like Lucius’s--didn’t have that eye-catching gleam.

Overall, the tall man had a presence that Harry had never encountered in his life--his very existence in a room seemed to demand respect and attention. He seemed to emanate power, somehow, his icy blue-grey eyes pinning Harry’s relatives to the spot. Harry wasn’t sure how his relatives were still standing--if Lucius had looked at _him_ like that, he was certain his heart would have stopped and he would have fainted away on the spot.

But Lucius _hadn’t_ looked at him like that--his gaze had been mostly unreadable to Harry, but it had visibly softened. One thing Harry _did_ know was that Lucius hadn’t looked at him like everyone else in his life had always looked at him--disgust, annoyance, and hatred were all absent from his expression, and that was enough for Harry. Plus, he had kept his word and come to get Harry precisely when he’d written that he would, and that alone would have endeared him to Harry. As it was, whether his cousin realised it or not, Harry had fully and fiercely embraced the older man into his heart--Lucius had won a devoted follower for life.

‘What we’re about to do is called Apparating,’ Lucius explained as they stepped into a patch of bushes. ‘When you’re old enough, you’ll be able to do this yourself, but until you come of age, you’ll need an adult to bring you along.’

‘What is Apparating, Cousin Lucius?’ Harry asked eagerly.

This new word was just the first of many to come, he knew. A whole new world was about to open up to him, and he couldn’t wait to begin learning it.

Lucius flicked his robe carelessly and the dead leaves that had clung to it from the bushes just _disappeared_! Harry tried very hard to keep his mouth from falling open again, but wasn’t entirely successful.

‘It is a wizard method of getting from one place to another, one of many. It can be very dangerous if one is not careful, so you need to be very quiet and still when the wizard Apparating you is preparing.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Harry said immediately, and belted up.

Lucius eyed him with something like approval, one corner of his mouth turning up as it had back at the house. Harry felt warmth spread through his chest--even when he did as he was told and behaved perfectly, the Dursleys had never seemed to notice. Apparently, at least one member of his _new_ family would notice.

‘Take my arm, Harry.’

He took a firm hold of Lucius’s arm when he held it up.

‘There will be a squeezing sensation, and you might feel a little nauseated afterward. If you get sick, please try not to be sick on me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

There was a popping sound, then a tightness that Harry assumed was the squeezing Lucius had mentioned, and then he was stumbling, landing on his feet on a shiny marble floor. There was indeed some nausea, but Harry was much too absorbed in his new surroundings to notice.

‘Wow…’ he breathed.

The entrance hall was bigger than the Dursleys’ sitting room, dining room and kitchen put together. The ceiling swept away high, high above him, an unlit chandelier hanging out of the shadows. Tall windows let in swathes of light. Everything seemed to be made of marble and silver and velvet. Harry felt as though he was standing in a fairy palace--an impression that only increased when a fairy queen stepped through the door, a tall, graceful blonde figure clothed in a flowing white gown that seemed to glow like it was made of starlight. Harry’s mouth fell open, and he distantly heard the rumble of Lucius’s amused chuckle.

‘Harry Potter--my wife, Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa, come and meet our cousin.’

Narcissa approached with a kind smile. Harry was unable to rouse himself until Lucius gave him a gentle push toward her.

‘Are…are you a fairy princess?’ Harry whispered, swallowing.

Narcissa’s laughter was merry and tinkling, like windchimes, her blue eyes bright and joyous. ‘Oh, you are a sweet one, aren’t you? I assure you, I’m only human, my dear Mr Potter.’

He ducked his head and shuffled his feet, his face heating. ‘I’m just Harry, Mrs Malfoy.’

‘Very well, Harry,’ she said kindly. ‘And you must call me Narcissa.’

He peeked up at her shyly. ‘Okay. Narcissa.’

It felt odd and wrong to be calling such a fine lady by her first name, but he didn’t want to be rude, either.

‘Would you like to see your room and freshen up?’ Lucius put in.

Harry’s eyes shot wide as he looked between the two elegant adults. ‘My room?’

Narcissa smiled, but Lucius looked pained, twisting his cane in his hands.

‘Yes, Harry-- _your_ room. We don’t have children living out of cupboards in _this_ house,’ he said archly.

Narcissa’s smile faded into a horrified, disbelieving expression. ‘Lucius--surely they didn’t--’

‘Later,’ he cut her off. ‘Come, Harry.’

Her smile reappeared immediately and she held out her hand. ‘Yes, come, Harry.’

Tentatively, shyly, Harry took her hand, feeling his face warm. His stomach felt strange, too, but in a good way. Her smile broadened and the three of them left the huge room--only to enter a long corridor full of tall candelabras and mirrors and paintings and sculptures and gilt frames. Harry couldn’t help openly gawking at everything as they walked down the corridor and into a room with a wide, sweeping grand staircase, but thankfully, the Malfoys seemed amused rather than offended. Even Lucius wore that faint flicker of a smile again, the same one he’d worn when Harry thanked him for coming to get him.

‘I really get my own room?’ Harry asked again as they climbed the stairs, needing further reassurance of this impossible fact. ‘I don’t even have to share with Draco?’

Narcissa laughed and squeezed his hand, and Lucius snorted, flicking a stray lock of hair out of his face.

‘Does it look as though we are so lacking for space?’ he demanded curtly.

‘No, sir,’ said Harry, and broke out in a pleased grin.

_His own room!_ Never in a million years had he thought that little dream of his would come true--well, okay, maybe in twenty or thirty years, when he had a job and money to get himself a room, but certainly not before then.

They arrived on the second floor and went through several more corridors--these less elaborate than the ones on the first two floors, but not by much--before they arrived at a door with an ‘H’ on it. Lucius raised a brow at Narcissa and she shrugged, smiling brightly, so Harry figured that meant it was her doing.

‘Here you are,’ said Lucius, flinging open the door theatrically. ‘Your room.’

Technically speaking, they were his _rooms_ , plural, as it turned out--the main room had no bed in it, only a table and chairs, a fireplace with a cosy-looking couch in front of it, and a couple of chests. Directly across from them were huge picture windows with seats built into them. When Harry scratched the back of his head and looked confused, Lucius cleared his throat pointedly and canted his head toward the doors on the left side of the room. Harry scampered over to one and found a huge bathroom-- _he even got a private bathroom!!!_ The tub looked like it could fit at least six Dudleys in it, and the sink was carved with marble serpents who had emeralds for eyes serving as taps. Even the toilet managed to be fancier than the Dursleys’, somehow.

The other door revealed his bedroom, at the centre of which was a giant four-poster with heavy green drapes. There was an enormous chest of drawers and an armoire, and a hope chest at the end of his bed. Harry was so shocked he dropped his plastic bag.

‘Are you all right, Harry dear?’ Narcissa asked sweetly, reaching out and smoothing a few of his wilder hairs, sighing a little when they sprang right back up again. Harry might have told her it was useless, but he was rather distracted.

‘All of this is for me?’ he said in awe, looking up at her with large eyes, his lower lip quivering.

She put her hands on his cheeks, her smile growing sad. ‘Yes, darling. These are your quarters. If you dislike anything about them, we will make changes.’

Harry’s eyes welled and the quivering of his lip grew more pronounced. ‘Miss Narcissa?’ he whispered.

‘Yes, Harry?’

‘May I hug you?’

Narcissa stared at him speechlessly for a moment before wrapping her arms around him, pulling him up against her.

‘Oh, Harry darling, you may hug me whenever you like,’ she said quietly. ‘We are family, after all.’

He sniffled a few times, a little ashamed of himself and his tears, and the fact that he was getting her dress wet, but finally he felt himself able to stop crying and pulled back. He started to wipe his face on his sleeve, but she tutted and knelt, gently dabbing his face with her handkerchief.

‘None of that, dear,’ she said kindly. ‘Lucius, we must order him some handkerchiefs at once.’

Harry’s face heated as Lucius inclined his head--he’d forgotten his cousin was there, and the tears were three times more embarrassing now.

Narcissa tugged at Harry’s overly large, fraying sleeve and frowned. ‘And some new clothes, as soon as we can arrange a trip to Madam Malkin’s. I had no idea Muggles had such terrible grasp of how to dress.’

‘These are my cousin Dudley’s old clothes,’ Harry said, feeling the need to assure her that not everyone outside the magical world dressed like this. ‘The Dursleys didn’t like to spend money on me, so they gave me his clothes when he outgrew them,’ he added, nudging the plastic bag with his foot. ‘What are Muggles? Are they what you call people who don’t have magic?’

She smiled a little tightly. ‘Yes, exactly. Our cousin is very sharp, isn’t he, Lucius? Poor child,’ she said lowly, and then whipped around to look at her husband fiercely. ‘Lucius, we simply _must_ find the time to take him to Diagon Alley tomorrow. We can’t have him wearing his Muggle cousin’s _castoffs_ any longer.’

Lucius looked just as angry as he had at the Dursleys’, but not at Harry, so he wasn’t too afraid.

‘No, indeed, my wife,’ he agreed in a cold, sharp tone. ‘I shall write to Madam Malkin at once to warn her in advance that we will be arriving, and require quite a large order.’

He whirled and swept out of the room, his cloak snapping behind him, and Harry looked to Narcissa for reassurance.

‘Is he angry?’ he asked softly, sniffling.

Narcissa finished wiping his face clean and stood, squeezing his shoulder. ‘Yes, dear--very angry with those foolish Muggles, not with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.’ Her smile grew more natural. ‘You’ll have a proper upbringing now--your own room, your own clothes and things. No more cupboards.’

Harry’s smile could have lit the room.

.

\------------------------

.

Harry had a quick bath after Narcissa had brought some of Draco’s old things, which were in much better condition and fit much better than any of Dudley’s old clothing. When he emerged clean and slightly damp, she fussed over him for a moment before pronouncing him fit.

‘Now, you may choose those items from your bag that you cannot bear to be parted from,’ she said crisply, pointing at the plastic bag but refusing to touch it. ‘The rest is to be burnt. Then, after you’ve finished, we shall go down to lunch, where you’ll meet your other cousins, Abraxas and Draco.’

Harry was excited by that news, practically bouncing around his sitting room until Narcissa cleared her throat, reminding him of his task. He sorted out the few members of the little metal army who had survived Dudley’s wrath, his wizard family tree book, and the two tattered paperbacks Dudley had thrown out when Aunt Petunia brought them home for him but Harry had saved from the rubbish. The rest were things Narcissa advised him he wouldn’t need anymore: a few broken crayons, his pen and scraps of paper ( _‘You’ll learn to use a quill, and there will be plenty of those, and paper, too, when you need them’_ ); Dudley’s old swimming goggles ( _‘Wizards have spells for that sort of thing, and I’ll cast it for you until you’re old enough to do it yourself, when you wish to go swimming’_ ), not that Harry had actually used them for swimming, but rather to protect his eyes when Uncle Vernon made him wash the car and soap liked to get in his eyes even over his spectacles; a dictionary that was missing nearly half its pages ( _‘There’s no need for that, we’ve an enormous dictionary in the library, should you need to look something up’_ ); and of course all of Dudley’s clothes ( _‘You can wear some of Draco’s old things today and tomorrow, and some of his old pyjamas tonight, and tomorrow you’ll come with us to Madam Malkin’s and have all new things’_ ). She did seem confused by his choice to keep the little soldiers and cavalry, and the two Muggle books, but she allowed it with little more than a grimace, instructing him to place his little army in one of the chests, which was apparently a toy chest but empty at the moment, and the three books on the empty shelves on the walls.

‘We’ll soon have all of it full,’ Narcissa said with a wide smile, her pale blue eyes bright and merry. ‘We didn’t have time to buy you anything ahead of time, but it’s better if you choose things you’ll like for yourself.’

Harry stammered. ‘I don’t need--’

But she cut him off with a gesture. ‘Don’t be a goose, Harry darling, of _course_ you need books and toys and things. All children need them. Now come along, we mustn’t keep the others waiting on us for their lunch.’

He blushed and ran forward to take her hand again. He made an effort to memorise the route from his room to the dining room, as he didn’t expect her to personally escort him to every meal.

The manor, Narcissa explained on the way, was arranged in a giant W with a flat bottom, with the front façade five storeys high, and the three wings protruding from the rear each three storeys. The fifth storey of the front was actually a full-length greenhouse.

‘We grow many of our own fruits and vegetables, and also many of the ingredients Lucius requires when he chooses to brew,’ she added with a wry smile.

Harry frowned. ‘Brew what?’

‘Potions, naturally,’ she sniffed.

His eyes widened. ‘Magic potions are real?!’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, chuckling.

The three wings off of the front all faced north, but the centre wing on the second floor was where Harry and Draco’s apartments were located, as well as a playroom at the end, looking out onto the gardens. Narcissa’s apartments were also there, at the front beside the junction between the wing and the front section, so that if Harry or Draco needed her in the night, she was just down the hall, and also in the unlikely event of an intruder entering, she would be able to defend that section.

‘Not that anyone could get through our wards without permission,’ she added when she saw his expression. ‘And we don’t make a habit of inviting people who dislike us.’

Harry let out a breath of relief and she continued explaining.

Abraxas’s chambers were located in the eastern wing, on the second floor, although the entire eastern wing was his, and therefore off limits to the rest of the family without an invitation.

‘Consider his territory to be a house within a house,’ she advised. ‘You wouldn’t just barge into someone’s home without an invitation, would you?’

‘No, ma’am!’ he said quickly.

Lucius’s quarters were on the third floor of the front section, separate from everyone else.

‘They were servants’ quarters, long before house elves served wizards, so they’re quite small, but they seem to satisfy Lucius,’ she said with another wry smile. ‘He claims otherwise, but personally, I believe he likes it because all of his rooms provide him with a view of the gate.’

Harry frowned. ‘Is that important?’

Narcissa shrugged without actually moving her shoulders, a trick Harry immediately wanted to learn--it looked so elegant.

‘Not really, but you’ll find that Lucius is a bit paranoid. The weakest part of any ward is the entrance--at least until it’s attacked or starts to wear in certain spots from age, but Lucius keeps them well-maintained, so there are never any weak points from that. The entry point of a ward is the spot where those with permission may pass through, and therefore it’s difficult to keep strong, due to all of the magical traffic through it. Therefore, if someone _were_ to try to break through, that would be the spot where they are most likely to succeed. Lucius likes having a view of the gate because he wants to be able to see right away if someone’s trying to break in--not wait for the alarms telling him they’ve _already_ breached the wards. He does have alarms set up to alert him if someone even begins an attack, but I don’t think he trusts them.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry quietly.

It was a lot of information to absorb, but also he was a little intimidated by his cousin’s power. He was beginning to feel like one of those orphans in his books--a peasant boy taken in by a great knight, living in his well-protected castle. In those stories, the knights always started training the boy, teaching him to fight and protect himself and other, weaker beings--perhaps Lucius would teach Harry, too? He hoped so. Harry never wanted to be vulnerable to someone bigger and meaner than him, like Dudley, ever again.

The dining room, where they were slowly headed, was actually the small family dining room--there was another, more elaborate and enormous dining room in the front section, used when they had guests. The family dining room was still quite large-- _‘From the days when the Malfoy family was much larger than it is now’_ \--and was located on the ground floor of the western wing.

Lucius and a blond boy, about as tall as Dudley but much thinner, were waiting when Narcissa and Harry arrived. There was no sign of Harry’s ‘first cousin (twice removed),’ Abraxas.

‘Father sends his apologies,’ Lucius said when Narcissa shot him a questioning look. ‘He had a business matter to attend to.’

Narcissa didn’t look convinced, and Lucius seemed annoyed, so Harry supposed that that was a lie.

‘You can sit by me!’ the boy, who must be Draco, practically shouted, shoving out the chair between him and Narcissa.

Harry looked to Lucius for confirmation and received a nod before he clambered into the chair.

‘Golly, you’re short,’ said Draco cheerfully. ‘Are you sure you’re my age?’

Harry’s cheeks heated, but he didn’t get a chance to mumble out an answer.

‘Manners, Draco,’ Lucius said sharply.

Draco ducked his head, blushing. ‘Sorry, Father.’ He was much calmer when he turned to Harry again. ‘I’m Draco, your third cousin,’ he said, sticking out his hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’

Harry tentatively shook his hand. ‘I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you, too,’ he said, but it wasn’t, really, because he was still stinging over the ‘short’ comment.

Draco grinned and swung his feet under the table, seeming quite pleased with himself. Harry could see the strong resemblance between him and Lucius--they both had the same pale, pointed features, and all three of the Malfoys seated around him had that eye-catching platinum blond hair, making him feel self-conscious about his own messy black hair. He undoubtedly stuck out like a sore thumb.

But Draco had his mother’s eyes, the same soft pale blue shade that could be mistaken for icy at first glance, while Lucius’s eyes were hard, cold blue-grey, tending to pale green in his angrier moments. Harry almost liked it when that happened, because even though it was nowhere near his own shade of green, it still reminded him that they _were_ related, however distantly.

Plates appeared on the table with a suddenness that startled Harry into falling out of his chair. Draco laughed, but Narcissa hopped up to help him up.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked gently.

Harry’s face was hot with embarrassment, but inside he was warmed a little by the honest concern she showed. It offset the humiliation of Draco’s laughter just a bit.

‘Yeah, ’m fine,’ he mumbled, climbing back into the chair with her help.

Draco’s laughter cut off abruptly, and Harry looked up to see Lucius pinning him with a hard glare. His face softened when he turned to Harry, though.

‘Our apologies, cousin,’ he said quietly. ‘We ought to have warned you--that is how the house elves deliver our meals, and after we’re finished, they’ll vanish the same way.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry, and while he was still embarrassed, he also couldn’t help thinking about how cool that was. He had no idea what a house elf was, but now that they’d been mentioned several times, he practically itched with curiosity. Still, it would have to wait, because it was time to eat right now.

Now that he wasn’t busy being shocked out of his seat, he realised that the feast before him was like nothing he’d ever eaten before--peas and carrots and potatoes and roast chicken, with a side of applesauce and a cup full of some kind of juice he didn’t recognise--all just for lunch?! The Dursleys generally ate ham sandwiches with a side of crisps when they were home for lunch, with the bigger meal saved for dinner. Harry wondered in total astonishment what dinnertime would bring.

The food tasted better than anything he’d ever eaten before, too--not that that was surprising, since he was generally given leftovers or some bread and cheese, if Dudley had eaten everything--so he ate much more than he probably should’ve. He barely made a dent in the plateful, but his stomach felt like it would burst if he touched another bite.

Draco was still going strong, though, and Harry wondered how he wasn’t as fat as Dudley.

‘Is that all you’re going to eat?’ the taller boy asked with open curiosity.

Harry’s cheeks warmed. ‘I’m _full_ ,’ he moaned, and waited for Draco to ask if he could have the rest, as Dudley would have done.

‘No wonder you’re so skinny,’ Draco said instead. ‘Mother, make Harry eat more!’

Narcissa shot him a quelling look. ‘That’s enough, Draco. You and I need to talk after lunch.’

That shut Draco up quite effectively, and Harry smiled gratefully at her.

She smiled back and tried to smooth down his hair again. ‘You just eat what you want, Harry,’ she said kindly. ‘We’ll get you built up to where you should be in no time.’

He bit his lip. ‘You’re not angry about the waste?’

Aunt Petunia would have thrown a fit if Harry hadn’t eaten everything he was given, as had happened on two occasions when he was too sick to eat. He’d eaten anyway, after she got angry, and ended up vomiting, which made her even angrier. As far as Harry was concerned, that made it a no-win situation. He’d hated being sick.

Narcissa gave another of her elegant shrugs. ‘We’ll give it to the dogs. They’ll enjoy the rare treat.’

Harry stiffened, his eyes going wide and the blood draining from his face. ‘You have dogs?’ he rasped.

Aunt Marge’s dog Ripper was all too clear in his memory, as they had visited not two weeks before Harry wrote to the Malfoys for asylum. Ripper had got after Harry, and when Marge, Vernon and Dudley had noticed, they’d laughed and cheered the dog on. Harry had ended up climbing the tree in the back garden and hiding there until Aunt Petunia, who’d been primarily annoyed at the situation because of Ripper’s barking, which might have disturbed the neighbours, asked Aunt Marge to call him off and let Harry down to come help with supper. He’d come within a toucher of being bitten, and the terror of the dog was very fresh in his mind.

And they had not one dog but _dogs_ , plural.

Narcissa and Lucius exchanged a glance as Harry started to tremble.

‘Are you afraid of dogs, Harry?’ Narcissa asked quietly.

He nodded rapidly. ‘Uncle Vernon’s sister has mean dogs and they used to chase me and she’d sic them on me to make Dudley laugh. I almost got bit, last time,’ he blurted as fast as he could.

Lucius set aside his napkin and regarded Harry very seriously. ‘They are outdoor dogs only,’ he said, slowly and calmly. ‘They are locked in their kennel at all times. They are Abraxas’s hunting dogs. If you don’t go near their kennel, you’ll never have to see them. I’ll show you where the kennel is after lunch, so you can avoid it.’

Harry was still trembling. ‘But what if they get loose?’ he protested anxiously.

‘They won’t hurt you. They’re well-trained. If you see one on the loose, tell it to sit and stay in as firm a voice as you can, and then come inside the house and tell someone that the dogs are loose,’ Lucius said patiently. ‘You’ll be perfectly safe. They’re bird-dogs, so they are trained to only flush birds from cover, not to attack people. And no matter what, they are _never_ allowed in the house, so you’re quite safe in here.’

He slowly relaxed, helped by Narcissa’s hand on his shoulder.

‘Yeah, the one you have to watch out for is Butch,’ Draco said with a wicked grin. ‘If he gets hold of you, he might _lick_ you to death.’

Harry shuddered at the mental image, and this time Narcissa was the one who glared at her son.

‘ _Draco_ ,’ she said sharply.

He paled and sank down in his chair a little, and Harry actually felt a little bad for him. He’d only been trying to make a joke this time. Still, he’d rather if Draco didn’t joke about _dogs_.

After everyone else had finished eating, Narcissa grabbed Draco’s shoulder and steered him out of the room with a very grim look on her face, and Lucius beckoned for Harry to follow him. He obeyed, trying again to memorise the layout of the many long hallways and rooms. This time it wasn’t long before they reached their destination--the gardens swept out before them, making Harry’s jaw drop yet again. It was too cold for much of it to be green yet, but it was still awe-inspiring with its sheer size. He couldn’t wait to see it come spring.

Lucius smiled at his awed expression and beckoned again before leading him out onto the grounds. The gardens were yet another maze, with crisscrossing paths laid through hedges and stone walls. They passed countless fountains and even a few white peafowl, pecking at the ground and making a great deal of racket, before they emerged on a fine flat lawn. Across the lawn was a long, low shed with fenced sections on either side. There were dogs lying in their separate sections, regarding them with little interest until they realised the pair was walking closer. Almost immediately, the entire pack leapt to its feet and began howling and baying, jumping at the fences and wagging their tails like maniacs.

Harry gasped and stopped walking, jumping behind Lucius.

‘Close enough for you, then?’ Lucius asked curtly.

Harry nodded quickly.

‘All right. Now you know where it is.’

He turned with a small sigh and began leisurely strolling back the way they’d come, letting Harry catch up to him. The dogs settled down again with disappointed huffs, and Harry tried not to feel bad. They’d obviously been very pleased to have a little company--but just the thought of going near them made his hands shake and his heart race.

‘Over there,’ said Lucius in a much more casual tone, gesturing toward the opposite end of the gardens, in a corner away from the house. ‘There is a Quidditch pitch. And there,’ pointing north of where they were, ‘is a small lake beyond the garden. I’m certain Draco will acquaint you with both with all speed as soon as the weather allows,’ he added with a faint smile.

Harry frowned. ‘A Quidditch pitch, sir?’

‘Quidditch is a wizard sport,’ Lucius said a little proudly. ‘Draco and I will teach you all about it. I myself was a Chaser in my school days, and a fair one if I do say so myself.’ He paused, frowning slightly. ‘Your father was an excellent Chaser, from what I heard, although I had left Hogwarts by the time he joined the team and came into his own. Talented enough to have played professionally, if he had desired to do so.’

Harry nearly tripped over himself. ‘You and my dad went to the same school, Cousin Lucius?’ he burst out excitedly. ‘Did you ever meet him? Was he nice? What did he look like?’

Lucius stopped walking and put his hands on Harry’s shoulders; Harry stopped bouncing with a concerted effort. His cousin had knelt to his level and was eyeing him with such seriousness that his stomach dropped. Perhaps they’d hated each other? He was always saying the wrong things, it seemed.

‘Harry,’ Lucius began slowly. ‘I know you have a lot of questions. Believe me, there is much I wish to tell you. It will take much longer than one afternoon to explain everything you need to know, so you will need to be patient. For now, I can tell you this much: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the best wizarding school in all of Britain, where all of the most talented wizards and witches go. It’s where you and Draco will both attend school, most likely, although there are other options outside of this country.’ He grimaced briefly. ‘It’s unlikely that my wife will allow either of you to be educated so far from her.’

Harry couldn’t help a little giggle at Lucius’s wry tone, and received a small smile.

‘Your father was a very, very talented young wizard, so, naturally, like myself he attended Hogwarts. However, I was several years older than he, and we…ran in different circles,’ he said delicately, looking at Harry almost warily. ‘There were many things we would have disagreed on even if we had had cause to meet. I have little idea of his character beyond his political beliefs and some of his magical aptitudes. What I _can_ tell you is that you are very nearly the spitting image of him.’

Harry grinned brightly, very pleased, and Lucius patted his shoulder, rising.

‘Now then. I have work to do, and I imagine that Draco and Narcissa will be missing you.’

.

\-------------------------------

.

Draco very rarely got in trouble with his mother. Abraxas occasionally scolded him, when he broke something or got in his grandfather’s way, but mostly, the old wizard seemed content to pat Draco on the head and send him on his way. Lucius, on the other hand, found fault with Draco on a regular basis. Admittedly, he probably deserved it--he was always running indoors, or being loud, or doing things his father had explicitly told him _not_ to do. Still, Lucius’s glare had the power to cow him, most of the time. He’d just been so _excited_ this morning, it seemed that nothing could calm him down.

And now he’d brought down the wrath of his mother upon him. She so rarely got angry with him that he sometimes forgot that when she did, she _meant_ it.

He sat before her with his head bowed, miserable, as she lectured him on his manners. Calling people short wasn’t nice, he shouldn’t laugh when other people fell, Harry wasn’t accustomed to eating so much and he needed to leave him alone about how skinny he was.

‘But _why_?’ Draco protested. ‘Why _is_ he so skinny?’

He honestly didn’t understand, and despite her ire, his mother clearly took note of his genuine confusion.

‘You remember what Harry said in his letter about how the Muggles were treating him?’ she asked curtly.

‘Yeah--I mean yes,’ he corrected hurriedly at her raised brow.

‘Then you are aware that they weren’t taking proper care of him, and that they made him sleep in a cupboard. He’s wearing your hand-me-downs for today and tomorrow because they had him dressed in rags, and you’ve seen for yourself what terrible shape his glasses are in. It’s extremely likely that those Muggles didn’t feel the need to feed him properly, either,’ she said, sneering a little, probably at the thought of the Muggles.

Draco’s eyes widened. ‘You mean they were _starving_ him?’

Narcissa nodded solemnly. ‘All of the evidence would seem to point that way. It would explain why he’s so short for his age, as well.’

He blinked. ‘How?’

‘In order to grow, children need nutrients. If they were starving Harry, his body wasn’t getting the nutrients it needed so he could grow as he should have.’

This was the most horrible thing Draco had ever heard of in his life. Abraxas and Lucius had always told him how horrible Muggles were and that he should hate them, as the whole family did, including his mother, but never before had he seen concrete evidence of how bad Muggles were, and for the first time in his young life, he felt a little spark of rage against them. How dare they? How _could_ they? Harry wasn’t bad--a little more skittish than Draco might have hoped for in his partner in crime and Official Best Friend, but he’d sort that out soon enough, and being shy and jumpy wasn’t cause to treat anyone that way!

‘Muggles are stupid,’ Draco said angrily. ‘Why didn’t Father blast them into oblivion?’

Narcissa looked amused for a moment. ‘Because he can’t take care of you and me and Harry if he’s in Azkaban,’ she pointed out lightly.

He slumped, disappointed. ‘Oh, right.’

There ought to be conditions under which it was allowed to murder Muggles. If they were stupid ones who starved wizard children, didn’t they deserve what they got?

Her expression and tone turned inscrutable, her gaze far off. ‘Besides, Muggle or not, they _are_ Harry’s closest blood relations, and one never knows when blood may come in handy…. It’s better to keep them alive and protected, and keep track of their whereabouts….’

Draco swallowed and watched her nervously until she shook off her brief mood and frowned at him in a more normal way.

‘And what on earth were you thinking with that comment about the dogs?’ she asked irritably. ‘Couldn’t you see how terrified Harry was?’

He sulked, pouting. ‘Well, yeah, and I thought a joke might make it better,’ he mumbled unhappily.

She sighed. ‘Draco, you still need to work on your timing,’ was all the more she said on the subject.

She didn’t really need to say anything else, as Draco had been in trouble for an inappropriate joke once before--Theodore Nott’s mother had been sick on and off for the past two years, and recently her health had taken a turn for the worse again, and Draco had made a hospital joke and got an ear-scorching telling off from his own mother when it made Theodore cry.

‘Yes, Mother,’ he said, suitably chastised.

It wasn’t long after that Lucius dropped Harry off. Harry seemed very thoughtful and was therefore quiet, which made Draco antsy. His mother’s scolding was still very fresh, though, so he resisted the urge to nag and whine until Harry became more animated.

‘Why don’t we show Harry around the rest of the manor?’ Narcissa suggested when Harry responded to her inquiries about his and Lucius’s trip to the dog kennel with little more than a hum.

That perked his poor cousin up, and Draco eagerly leapt on the idea.

‘Oh, yes, let’s! Have you seen the library yet?’ he asked excitedly, grabbing Harry’s hand and tugging him toward the door of his mother’s study. ‘Or the gallery? You have to see the dragon painting, it’s the best!’

Narcissa sedately led them through the manor, narrating in between Draco’s exclamations and gesticulations toward things he thought Harry would be excited about. Harry stuck close to her, mostly, but he did listen to Draco, and looked where he pointed, and sometimes he even verbally agreed that it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen (whatever it happened to be). It was a much slower start to their Best Friendmanship than Draco would have liked, but since Harry didn’t seem to be angry or annoyed with him over their rough start at lunch, he decided he’d take what he could get.

It was pretty fun, watching Harry see the magical things he’d never seen or noticed before. He’d apparently been too busy gawking at everything in general to notice that the figures in the paintings moved (or else they’d been asleep, which was equally likely), and his eyes widened and he let out a little peep that Draco found hilarious when he finally came face to face with a portrait of a man who tipped his hat and wished Harry a good day. The self-reshelving books in their massive library captivated him for so long that Draco finally started jumping up and down and tugging on him again, overflowing with impatience.

They showed him the ballroom, and the dining room they used for parties and guests, and the parlours and sitting rooms of varying colours and sizes, and Lucius’s potions lab and study (he was inside, and looked up with a grunt and a raised brow when Narcissa opened the door, immediately turning back to his paperwork when he realised why they were there), and the greenhouse. Finally, they arrived at Draco’s favourite room, his playroom.

‘Well, actually, it’s _our_ playroom now, isn’t it, cousin?’ he said cheerfully, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

That made Harry grin and follow him over to the closet, where he kept all of his board and card games. He’d hardly got through showing off the closet and was ready to show off his collection of toy dragons when his mother intervened.

‘You’ll have plenty of time to review each individual toy later,’ she said firmly, but she was smiling. ‘For now, it’s nearly time for dinner. You need to go get cleaned up while Harry and I discuss the tutoring schedule.’

Draco frowned and plucked at his robe. ‘But I’m not dirty!’

Narcissa and Harry eyed the gravy stain down his front pointedly, looking strangely alike for a moment.

He huffed and rolled his eyes. ‘All right, _fine_! It’s just a little stain….’

He trotted out of the room still muttering, and hoped they would only talk about school while he was gone, and not anything _really_ important, like Quidditch. He hadn’t even got to explain about his favourite team yet!

.

\------------------------

.

Harry blew out a breath once Draco was gone, prompting a chuckle from Narcissa.

‘A bit much for you, is he? He’s just excited--he’ll calm down in a few days. A little, anyway. He’s always a bit energetic,’ she admitted.

He ducked his head sheepishly, caught out. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t like Draco--he did, and he was glad that Draco seemed to like him, too--it was just overwhelming. Although that had answered the question of why Draco wasn’t fat like Dudley--no matter how much he ate, he’d burn it off almost immediately. He never seemed to stop moving! He bounced around rooms like a pinball, and even when he was standing in one spot, he somehow managed to be in constant motion, fidgeting and gesturing and rocking. He hoped some of that was just excitement, like Narcissa seemed to think it was.

‘Now then,’ she said with a decisive air. ‘Let’s sit, shall we?’

He obediently followed her to the table where Draco had said the whole family (well, minus Abraxas, who, according to Draco, never did anything fun) gathered to play some of the games in the closet, on special occasions. She folded her hands neatly before her and regarded him thoughtfully. Self-consciously, Harry squirmed on the seat and tried to sit up straight.

‘I have never had to tutor a student who wasn’t raised in the wizarding world,’ Narcissa said finally, frowning slightly. ‘I’m unfamiliar with what those Muggles teach in their schools, so I’m uncertain what you know and what you need to catch up on. Nor do I know how to assess where you are, except perhaps to ask you a few questions, and I think I may give you a little test on maths and spelling tomorrow, if there’s time after our little shopping excursion. But first, if I understood you correctly earlier, Muggles do not use quills?’

He shook his head quickly. ‘No, ma’am. We--I mean _they_ use pens and pencils and markers and crayons. Well, only kids use crayons, usually, and in school we had to use pencils.’

‘Ah,’ she said, sniffing disdainfully. ‘We do use pencils, occasionally. When you’re making notes to yourself, or sketching out something, they can be quite useful. I will provide you with a pencil while you’re still learning to use a quill--but it is absolutely imperative that you learn to use a quill. That is the primary writing implement in the wizarding world, and it is what you will use to complete your homework when you go away to school. At Hogwarts, they don’t accept essays written in pencil--although you may write your outline and drafts in whatever form you’d like. Only the finished product _must_ be completed in ink. You’ll also be required to use a quill for your exams.’

Harry’s heart skipped a beat at this mention of Hogwarts. ‘Will you teach me?’

‘Yes, naturally,’ Narcissa chuckled. ‘We’ll begin practising as soon as we’ve got you settled in. I generally provide Draco with self-sharpening never-out quills, but Lucius prefers to use the un-spelled kind, and that’s what I’ll teach you with--it’s important to know how to use a regular quill as well as an enchanted one, since it might be all you have at hand.’ She paused, frowning again. ‘That reminds me that Draco could use a refresher. Perhaps he can practise alongside you for the first few times.’

He smiled at the thought--it would make him feel less stupid if Draco had to practise, too.

‘How far along are you in maths?’ she asked, tilting her head slightly. ‘I still intend to test you, but for now--have you done any multiplication? Division? Have they begun to teach you fractions or decimals yet?’

Harry flushed. ‘Um. Well, we just started learning our multiplication tables--I’ve memorised through the fives, but after that it gets harder. I haven’t learnt any of that other stuff yet.’

She looked distinctly displeased. ‘Hmm. I would have expected you to have learnt division by now. No matter. Draco is working on fractions, but he’s having quite a bit of trouble, so you may catch up to him before long.’

He ducked his head, ashamed, and didn’t tell her that he’d actually been third in his class in maths.

‘I suppose they only taught you Muggle history,’ she said disgustedly. ‘Although they can hardly be faulted.’

Harry thought she sounded as though she wished to fault them for it anyway.

‘We’ll catch you up on that as well. Goodness knows you won’t learn anything useful from Binns,’ Narcissa added, smiling wryly.

‘Who’s Binns?’ he wondered.

‘He’s the History of Magic professor at Hogwarts. He’s a ghost, and…well, most students literally sleep through all five years. Actually, Lucius once told me that the only reason he kept taking History of Magic at the N.E.W.T. level was because it provided him an uninterrupted nap twice a week, away from students who needed a prefect’s attention. I was rather jealous that I didn’t think of that.’

He was freshly awed. ‘You and Lucius were prefects?’

Narcissa smiled slyly. ‘Oh, it’s much worse than that. We were prefects, and in our final year, Lucius was Head Boy. I lost out on Head Girl to a Hufflepuff who took one more O.W.L. than I did and aced it,’ she added with only a faint, faded touch of bitterness.

‘Wow….’ Head Boy? Lucius had mentioned he was good on the Hogwarts Quidditch team, but he must have been a _really_ good student, too! The Dursleys hadn’t ever cared how Harry did, as long as he didn’t beat Dudley too badly, so Harry had really only ever applied himself in the subjects he enjoyed, like maths and English, and didn’t really try in the rest. It hadn’t helped that he wasn’t really allowed to do homework, either, since he was supposed to be doing chores when he was home (although sometimes he’d secretly done his homework after everyone went to bed, if he felt brave enough to sneak into the living room and turn on a light). If the Malfoys had been prefects ( _Head Boy!_ ), they obviously took school pretty seriously. Harry didn’t want to embarrass them--he’d have to apply himself a lot more to make sure that he didn’t, he thought, almost fierce with determination.

‘And of course, we’ll have to start from scratch with magical theory, too, but Lucius will cover that with you,’ she went on.

Harry grinned. ‘He will?’ he gasped.

The way she’d been talking, he thought Narcissa taught everything.

She smiled at his enthusiasm. ‘Yes. Now is as good a time as any to explain the schedule, I suppose.’

On the weekdays, she explained, breakfast was at eight, and both boys would be expected to get up and start readying for the day at seven. She would come and check to make sure they were up at seven-thirty. After breakfast, it was off to Narcissa’s study for the beginning of their lessons.

‘On Mondays and Wednesdays, we start off with spelling and grammar, and then move on to elocution and debate,’ she said primly.

‘Elocution?’ Harry asked, bewildered.

It wasn’t exactly a term tossed around the Dursley residence.

‘Speaking, Harry dear,’ she said kindly. ‘It’s important to enunciate, and to know how to speak publicly with distinction.’

‘Oh,’ he mumbled, and then flushed as he realised that probably wasn’t good enunciation.

Her smile widened, but she continued her explanation without comment.

Tuesdays and Thursdays brought maths and history, followed by lunch. After lunch, a brief break to walk in the gardens, and then back to Narcissa’s study for what she called ‘pure-blood training.’

‘If you’re to successfully navigate the upper social circles of wizarding society, then you’ll need to know how to dress, how to act, how to take advantage of your connections,’ she said, with the air of one confiding a great secret. ‘I’ll teach you all of that and more--you and Draco both. I’ll make little gentlemen of the two of you even if it kills me,’ she added jokingly.

Harry giggled. ‘I don’t think it’ll be _that_ hard.’

She raised a doubtful brow. ‘Hmm. Anyway, after pure-blood training, it’s off to Lucius’s study for lessons on magical theory and lore.’ She grimaced. ‘Well, that’s what I call it, but more often, it’s whatever knowledge Lucius feels like imparting on any particular day, based on what Draco has told me.’

Despite this haphazard lack of structure, she admitted that Lucius was still managing to do a good job of forming a good base of knowledge for Draco before his entrance to Hogwarts.

‘Although he doesn’t really want him to go to Hogwarts,’ she said unhappily. ‘Lucius would prefer to send him to Durmstrang.’

‘Why?’ Harry asked. He didn’t really understand it when Lucius himself, and apparently Narcissa too, had attended Hogwarts. Why wouldn’t he want Draco to go there, too?

She shrugged. ‘I’m sure he has his reasons, but I confess I don’t really listen when he tries to explain them to me,’ she said with a wicked grin.

He snickered, suitably distracted from the question.

‘I want both of you boys closer to home,’ she added, ‘so it’ll be Hogwarts. I’ve got four years to keep ignoring Lucius into accepting that fact.’

On Fridays, they studied ‘life skills’ for morning lessons, and they had the afternoon free. While these ‘life skills’ lessons didn’t include cooking and cleaning, as Harry had expected, it still involved other important things, such as learning wizarding laws, politics, and how to run a household.

‘You’ll learn how to balance a ledger so you can keep track of your finances as well,’ Narcissa said. ‘Draco gets an allowance every week and has to keep track of it in his ledger. You’ll get the same. You may spend it on whatever you wish, but part of it must go into savings each week, and you have to keep track of all of it. If you have to dip into your savings for something because you’ve used all of your pocket money for the week, you haven’t done a good job for that week. Right now, I believe Draco is saving for another toy dragon--Lucius has rightfully refused to buy it for him because it actually breathes fire. I’m hoping something else catches Draco’s eye before he saves enough for it, else he might burn the whole house down….’

Harry’s brows furrowed as he thought deeply. ‘So, you still buy stuff, but our pocket money is for stuff that you don’t want to buy for us?’

‘ _Things_ , Harry, not stuff,’ she corrected gently. ‘And yes, that’s usually how Draco uses it. As long as he records what he’s spent, I don’t usually mind, since it’s supposed to be practise for keeping track of his finances in the future. You don’t have to use it that way if you don’t want, or you can if you’d like. But if there’s anything you’d like, we will usually buy it for you.’

He believed that--the playroom had been stuffed to the gills with toys and games, and according to Draco, he had even _more_ amusements in his rooms. Like Dudley, Draco seemed to be a boy who didn’t hear the word ‘no’ very often. To Harry’s relief, that seemed to be where the resemblance ended, as Draco had laughingly told him that it was stupid for Harry not to touch any of the toys, because then they couldn’t play together. Dudley had never taken such an attitude.

On Saturdays, the boys were free to do as they wished, as long as they stayed out of trouble and away from Lucius’s study (except in cases of emergency, naturally). On Sundays, Lucius didn’t work, and the three of them typically went on outings or did some kind of outdoor activity together when the weather permitted.

‘In the winter, we see less of Draco than we’d like,’ she said dolefully. ‘Lucius and I tend to hole up in the library when the weather prevents us going out, but Draco is less of a reader. He prefers to come up here and play.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry.

He didn’t know where he’d end up--he was torn between the desire to tear through every book they owned and the itch to get his hands on a toy that Dudley hadn’t pre-broken for the first time in his life.

In the summer, they didn’t have any lessons, just like students who attended regular school.

‘Are there wizard primary schools?’ Harry wondered.

Narcissa grimaced. ‘There should be, but no--parents tutor their children at home. It falls to us to ready you for Hogwarts.’ She sighed. ‘Before the war, pure-bloods often formed tutoring rings, with each parent taking the subject he or she was best at and teaching it to the whole group, but….’

She trailed off, her expression distant and a bit sad. Harry felt sorry for her, but he was also very confused.

‘Before which war?’ he asked innocently. ‘World War II?’

That was the one he’d paid most attention to in Muggle school.

She refocused on him, smiling tightly. ‘Let’s not talk about that right now,’ she said kindly, patting his hand. ‘It’s time for you to go wash your hands and comb your hair for dinner.’

Harry wanted to protest (he wanted to know _now_!), but Lucius’s admonishment to be patient was still fresh, so he quietly agreed and padded off to his bathroom ( _his_ bathroom!!). Lucius was right, after all--Harry had too much to learn to expect to pick it all up at once. It annoyed and frustrated him, but he vowed to try to be patient.

When he emerged, Draco was out in the hall waiting for him, bouncing off the walls and fidgeting.

‘Mother told me to wait for you in case you hadn’t memorised the way to the dining room yet,’ he blurted as soon as he spotted Harry, bounding over and latching on to his arm. ‘Why is your hair always a mess? Don’t you know how to comb it?’

Harry frowned as he was dragged down the hall at alarming speed. ‘Yes, I--’

‘Has anyone told you about Quidditch? Quidditch is the best! My favourite team is the Ballycastle Bats--you’ll like them, too, of course, because they’re the best! We’ll have to get you a poster like mine for your room. I can’t wait until we’re old enough to play _real_ Quidditch! Sometimes Father flies with me and we toss the Quaffle around a bit, but it’s not the same. Father says it’s too dangerous until I’m older, even though he’s taught me a lot and he says I’m a really good flyer for my age,’ Draco boasted proudly. ‘He thinks if I work hard at it and practise a lot, I might even be better than him someday. I hope so, because I don’t want to be a Chaser like he was--everyone _knows_ that Seekers are the real stars. He’ll teach you to fly, too, but don’t be mad if you’re not as good as me, because I’ve had years more practise and it’s a little hard at first. But I think you’ll do fine, and it probably won’t be long before Father’s taught you enough for you to play with the Quaffle, too. Flying one-handed is easy once you get the hang of it. You’ll probably make Chaser once we’re at Hogwarts, but not until we’re older, because first years aren’t allowed to bring their brooms, which is just ridiculous if you ask me….’

Harry did his best to tune out Draco’s nattering about people he’d never heard of and odd words like ‘Bludger’ that evidently had to do with Quidditch, but he had no idea in what context. For all he knew, that could have been what wizards called the score. Instead, he focused on picking out landmarks he remembered, reinforcing his memory of the layout of the house.

Draco fell abruptly silent when they arrived, his mouth closing with an audible click, and it didn’t take Harry long to locate the reason why. Instead of Lucius, a tall, wiry man with white-blond hair sat at the head of the table, with Narcissa to his left and Lucius to his right. He had turned to watch them enter, so Harry could see his lined, wrinkled face--still sharp despite the slow warping of time. Lucius and Draco were both pale, but this man was so white that Harry could see some of the blue meandering lines where his veins travelled under his skin. He studied Harry with flat grey eyes that betrayed nothing of what he thought or felt, calculating but otherwise empty.

This, then, was Abraxas Malfoy.

Harry felt a chill up his spine--and was it his imagination, or did even Lucius look wary?

Abraxas’s lips parted. ‘Mr Potter.’ His voice was smooth and soft and utterly emotionless. ‘So this is the Boy Who Lived.’

Harry shifted and darted a confused glance at Lucius--who was staring fixedly at Harry’s forehead. His scar? From the car crash? Nervously, he flattened his fringe over the scar, and Lucius’s eyes snapped briefly to his before flicking back to Abraxas.

‘Please be seated, Mr Potter,’ Abraxas said, gesturing toward the place set on Lucius’s opposite side.

Harry hurried to obey, grateful that Lucius would be between him and the intimidating old man. He glanced up at Lucius after he was settled, biting his lip, and though Lucius’s expression didn’t change, he squeezed Harry’s knee under the table, where Abraxas couldn’t see. It made Harry feel a little braver and he straightened in his chair, squaring his shoulders.

The whole family was silent as their dinner arrived, although Harry had to stifle a gasp at the sheer enormity of it. Platters full of potatoes and casseroles and things Harry had never seen before filled the middle of the table. The main dish was lamb in a brown sauce. There was no way they were going to be able to eat all of this, and again he wondered about the waste--surely all of this wouldn’t be fed to the dogs? Narcissa had said table scraps were a _rare_ treat for them, not a nightly one.

He didn’t dare ask with Abraxas in the room, though.

They’d all served themselves and begun to eat when the Malfoy patriarch spoke again.

‘How do you like the manor thus far, Mr Potter?’ he asked politely, his expression relatively mild.

Harry hurried to chew and swallow the bite he’d just taken, nearly choking in the effort.

‘I like it very much, Mr Malfoy,’ he said earnestly as soon as he could talk without spraying food everywhere.

‘ _Lord_ Malfoy,’ Abraxas corrected.

Lucius sighed and rolled his eyes, savagely stabbing a Brussels sprout, and Harry stuffed a bite of beets in his mouth to muffle his giggle.

Abraxas raised a brow at Lucius, but refrained from comment. ‘You may call me “sir,” Mr Potter.’

Harry nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, sir.’

Abraxas’s expression relaxed just a touch further, and Harry’s tension reduced proportionately. Draco began a very soft, controlled conversation with his mother across the table, so he figured the worst must be over.

‘Tell me, Mr Potter,’ Abraxas went on, almost conversationally. ‘What was it like, living with Muggles?’

Draco stopped talking--all four Malfoys were staring at him with open curiosity, and Harry squirmed, his cheeks heating under all the attention.

‘It…wasn’t nice,’ he said uncomfortably.

Abraxas cocked his head, reminding Harry of a bird for a moment. ‘How so?’ He smiled thinly when Harry fumbled for words. ‘I am merely curious. I know very little of Muggles, so it is difficult to envision the troubles you must have endured. Indulge an old man, Mr Potter.’

He swallowed. ‘Um. Well, I had to do a lot of chores, and some of them were hard because I wasn’t big enough. And sometimes they gave me too many chores to do in too short a time,’ he muttered.

When he said it out loud, it just sounded whiny.

‘I believe you listed some of them in your letter,’ Abraxas agreed. ‘Surely that wasn’t the only reason you desired to leave?’

Harry’s face blazed. He didn’t want them to think he was just some whiny kid! Then they might think he’d get tired of them, too, and want to move on to another family, and that would _never_ happen. And he didn’t want them to think badly of him--especially not Lucius.

‘No, there were other things,’ he said, thoroughly embarrassed but not muttering anymore. ‘They made me live in the cupboard under the stairs even though there was a guest bedroom and Dudley got _two_ bedrooms.’

Draco let out a disgusted scoff. ‘Why would anyone need _two_ bedrooms?!’ he cried. ‘You can only sleep in one at a time.’

Harry refrained from pointing out that Draco had a private sitting room, bathroom, bedroom, and, prior to his arrival, an entire playroom to himself.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, shrugging, ‘but apparently he needed them. So I had to live in the cupboard. And I got enough to eat at school, but the rest of the time, I either got the Dursleys’ leftovers or some bread and milk or water if there were no leftovers. Sometimes Dudley would eat all the food on purpose, even if he was full, just so I wouldn’t get to have any,’ he added with more than a little bitterness.

Lucius made a noise through his nose that almost sounded like a hiss and dropped another spoonful of potatoes onto Harry’s plate, glowering fiercely at the food all the while. Narcissa nodded her approval, a fierce sort of expression on her face as well. Neither of them looked directly at Harry, so his questioning glance went unanswered.

Hesitantly, Harry continued. ‘They didn’t like it when I got better marks than Dudley, so they wouldn’t let me do my homework, and they would tell my teacher that I was a sneak and a liar and a cheat so she wouldn’t like me. They were always calling me a freak, and if anything strange happened, I’d get locked in my cupboard without meals for a day or two. Once, my teacher was yelling at me in school and I got scared and then her hair turned blue, and when I got home, Uncle Vernon gave me a couple of whacks with his belt, which he’d never done before, and even though Aunt Petunia brought me food, they wouldn’t let me out of the cupboard for a week.’

Draco was palpably outraged. ‘How dare they?!’ he shouted. ‘Someone ought to lock _them_ up in a cupboard for a week and see how _they_ like it! It’s not like you meant to turn her hair blue! It was accidental magic, it’s completely normal!’

Harry perked up, pleased. ‘It is?’

He had never been called ‘normal,’ and it felt nice. _Hi, I’m just Harry, a normal wizard._

‘For a wizard, it is,’ Narcissa said in a low, strained voice, darting glances at Lucius. ‘Particularly if you were frightened.’

‘I was, a little,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘She was really close to my face and I thought she was never going to quit screaming at me.’

‘That does sound quite terrible,’ Abraxas spoke up, the mere reminder of his presence cowing Draco. ‘Your uncle only hit you once?’

Harry nodded. ‘Yes, just that once, and Aunt Petunia never hit me, although sometimes she’d swing the frying pan at my head if she was _really_ annoyed. Dudley used to beat me up a lot. He’d get his friends together after school and they’d go Harry Hunting--I got really fast from running away from them,’ he added a little proudly.

A breeze ruffled Harry’s hair, and his arms and the back of his neck felt prickly, but when he looked around, all of the windows were shut. Draco met his eyes and shrugged, looking just as clueless as Harry--but Narcissa and Abraxas were looking at Lucius. He smiled tightly and went back to turning his food into a puréed mess, apparently with little interest in actually eating it, and the strange breeze died.

‘I suppose that was the worst part about living there, then,’ Abraxas said mildly, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Harry didn’t much care whether Abraxas thought that was worthy of rescue or not, as Lucius, Narcissa and Draco all looked upset and clearly thought that was enough. He wasn’t worried about them thinking he was just whiny and ungrateful, like the Dursleys had always said he was, anymore. But Abraxas was incorrect, and Harry felt the need to set him straight.

‘No,’ said Harry solemnly, setting down his fork. ‘The worst part about living there is that when I got the letter from Cousin Lucius, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon clearly knew he was a wizard, which meant they knew all about magic, and they never told me. And they told me that my parents were unemployed drunkards who died in a car crash after a night of drinking, but they never, ever told me they were wizards. They punished me for having magic, and they told me magic wasn’t real--the worst part about living there was that they lied to me.’

The strange breeze returned as a wind strong enough to blow the napkins off the table and out of their laps, and several of the windows and mirrors cracked, the glass shrieking in protest. Harry and Draco exchanged frightened glances across the table, and an instant later, Narcissa hurried them out of the room, closing the door behind her. The three of them walked briskly back to her study, which was quickly becoming Harry’s favourite place in the house--he was comforted just entering the sanctuary of books and comfortable cushioned chairs and the scent of flowers.

‘Did I say something wrong?’ Harry asked, shaking.

Narcissa opened her arms, and both boys flung themselves at her, clinging to her for comfort. Harry’s shaking eased as she stroked his head.

‘You didn’t say anything wrong, darling,’ she said quietly after a few minutes. ‘It’s those _Muggles_ we’re angry with, not you.’

‘Yeah, those Muggles are jerks,’ Draco piped up, sounding a lot tougher than he looked at the moment, his eyes wide and red-rimmed and his face pale from the fright they’d just had.

‘Yes, not yeah, Draco,’ Narcissa corrected absently, and the boys exchanged a grin, almost instantly relaxed by that little slice of normalcy.

‘Adult wizards have accidental magic, too?’ Harry asked, now that he was feeling braver and she’d escorted them out of danger.

She hesitated. ‘Normally, no. By the time you’re an adult, you’ll have enough control of your magic and emotions to make accidental magic extremely rare.’

‘I’ve never seen Father do that before,’ Draco added in a wavery voice, clearly still shaken by his father’s display of power and barely-contained rage.

‘No, your father is very much in control of himself at all times.’ Narcissa’s gaze unfocused for a moment as she frowned at the wall in the general direction of the dining room. ‘However, Muggles are already a sore point for him, and you must recall that he’s the one who went to rescue Harry. He probably saw some examples of their mistreatment of him, so it is more concrete and therefore even more upsetting to him than it is to us.’

Harry squirmed guiltily. ‘I was in my cupboard when he came to get me, and Dudley punched me one last time when we said goodbye. Cousin Lucius saw both things. He looked angry, and when Dudley punched me, he pointed his wand at him.’

Draco looked impressed, but Narcissa continued to appear solemn.

‘Then there you have it. I confess I would have found it difficult to control _myself_ , under those circumstances,’ she said. ‘And Lucius still managed some control just now even as angry as he was. He couldn’t stop the outburst, but he was the one who directed it into the glass.’

Harry and Draco exchanged another glance, more rattled by this than they wished to be. They would hate to see what would happen if Lucius completely lost control.

Narcissa seemed to sense their thoughts and smiled. ‘It’s a skill you’ll learn,’ she said comfortingly. ‘As I said, accidental magic as an adult is extremely rare, but even when it happens, you’ll still maintain some control of where it goes. The only time a fully-trained wizard can have a magical outburst and not have control over what it effects and how is if the wizard in question is concussed or confunded at the time. That rarely happens. The two of you won’t reach that point for some time, I’m afraid.’

‘Why did he pick the glass?’ Harry asked.

‘Easy and cheap to replace,’ Draco explained, perking up considerably now that there was a question _he_ could answer.

‘I need to go and check on Lucius now, if you boys are all right,’ she cut in before Draco could get going--he looked fully poised to explain exactly _why_ they were so easy and cheap to replace, if not give a full and complete history on all of the windows in Malfoy Manor. Harry was absurdly grateful for the interruption.

‘We could come, too,’ Harry offered.

She smiled sweetly. ‘Thank you, Harry, but I don’t think that will be necessary. Why don’t you go up to the playroom and finish showing Harry your toys, Draco?’ she suggested.

Draco immediately seized on the idea, and Harry found himself being dragged off again in short order.

.

\--------------------------

.

Lucius was not an empathetic person by nature. He cared very little for the troubles of others, save when helping them could aid him politically or score him some points with the public (always useful). He believed that, in general, people deserved what they got. Those who were fortunate in life were so because they had the breeding and the intelligence to grant them those fortunes. If a person was poor or ill-used, it was usually because of bad practises in the bloodline and general stupidity, like the Weasleys, for example. They were too stupid to choose the right spouses, and too stupid to improve their lots in life in any other fashion, either. It was simply proof that the pure-blood way was the best way--blood-traitors and Muggles were clearly incapable of using their few skills and meager brains to any useful purpose. Oh, certainly it was necessary to marry a half-blood into the family now and then, or one of the ‘less pure’ pure-blood families, like when his own grandfather had married a Potter, but that wasn’t nearly so bad as marrying someone of no family at all. It had served the Malfoys well, hadn’t it? They were one of the wealthiest, most influential families in the entire wizarding world. Lucius didn’t think it much of a stretch to say that only Dumbledore himself carried greater weight with the Ministry than Lucius did.

But with Harry’s case, it was different. Harry’s parents were dead--died in an attempt to protect their child--so he had no family to speak for him. Sirius Black, his godfather, had gone off the deep-end, or possibly had wanted to kill the boy himself. It was still unclear, as no one could get any sense out of the man. Lucius shuddered--with the exception of his gorgeous, perfect wife, the Black family was a clan of psychopaths. Narcissa was the diamond in the rough, as far as he was concerned.

That’s what taking pure-blood doctrine _too_ seriously and refusing to allow any genetic diversity into the bloodline got you--two sons on one side who’d both been insane, one showing it by joining the Dark Lord and dying very young and early in his service, without making much of a contribution at all, and the other showing it by pretending to go completely the other way, then revealing his true colours by blowing up a street and murdering a bunch of Muggles in broad daylight, and finally going so insane he couldn’t even talk straight; and three daughters on the other side, one a Death Eater so devoted and obsessed with the Dark Lord it made Lucius physically ill, another who went so crazy she _married a Muggle-born_ , and Narcissa, who was clearly the last expression of the greatness that had once run through the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Lucius was just glad the rest of the Blacks were dead or in prison, leaving only the sane and the harmless crazy--Narcissa, the former, free to raise her son and be wonderful, and Andromeda, the latter, who despite marrying a Muggle-born and having a daughter with him, was in all other respects sane. She didn’t blow people up, cackle maniacally, or any of the rest of that nonsense. That, and she had the sense to only write to her sister very rarely, so as not to arouse Abraxas’s ire. Personally, Lucius couldn’t care less if the sisters stayed in touch, since Andromeda marrying a Mudblood didn’t change Narcissa’s doing the right thing, but Abraxas liked to pretend that Andromeda didn’t exist at all, and it outraged him when he was forced to face reality.

He forced his mind back on track--Harry. Without his parents, or even his dangerously crazy godfather, to speak for him, Dumbledore had swept him up and taken charge of him before the rest of the wizarding world even knew what was happening, only to drop him on some Muggle family’s doorstep with nary a word. Harry had only been a year old at the time, so it wasn’t as though he could have fought Dumbledore off, or toddled off to find help, or hailed the Knight Bus. No, Harry’s troubles were, in Lucius’s mind, entirely of Dumbledore’s making.

It was hardly surprising. The old man lived to enrage Lucius, he was sure of it.

As did Muggles.

Lucius was ashamed of his loss of control, but his anger had been steadily building since this morning, and he hadn’t had the chance to calm himself and evaluate the situation. He hadn’t had such an outburst since he was thirteen years old, but he could only plead that the combination of Dumbledore and the Muggles had put him over the edge. That and Harry’s revelations. Narcissa had been right to ask Lucius to go and rescue him--they had been neglecting and abusing the poor boy for the entirety of the six years they’d had him.

But what had truly put Lucius over the edge was what Harry had said at the end--those Muggles had _known_ \--they’d bloody well _known_ about magic, there was no way they hadn’t. The woman had known well enough to scream when Lucius drew his wand. Not, in Lucius’s experience with Muggles he was about to torture or otherwise amuse himself with, the normal reaction to what appeared to be little more than a stick. Muggles weren’t familiar with sticks being used as weapons worthy of a terrified shriek. But _that_ Muggle, Harry’s despicable ‘aunt,’ she’d known well enough to scream and to try to defend her whale of a son.

And she had _lied_ to him. Harry didn’t know a thing about magic, not even whatever that woman knew, because she’d looked him in the eye and told him that magic wasn’t real-- _lied_ to him.

A car crash, indeed! James Potter, die in some Muggle accident? Hardly likely. Lucius wasn’t very familiar with Lily Potter, other than knowing she was James Potter’s wife and a Muggle-born, but from what little he’d heard from Severus Snape, she wasn’t likely to have been killed so easily and so simply and so _foolishly_ , either. The claim that they’d crashed because they were drinking only added insult to injury.

Lucius could stand for a lot of things, but not for _Muggles_ denying a true-born _wizard_ of his heritage--and a wizard like Dumbledore complicit in the treachery? It had taken all of his restraint not to Apparate straight to those blasted Muggles and blow them off the face of the planet.

He hadn’t bothered to explain to Abraxas, just stormed off to his rooms for a little space and privacy, where he’d spent about a half hour pacing and getting a grip on his emotions. He’d begun to explain to Narcissa, when she quietly stepped into his little sitting room, staring at him solemnly, but she waved a hand to cut him off.

‘I understand, Lucius,’ she said softly, and wrapped her arms around him for a while.

He let her, for once, because it oddly did help to calm his pounding pulse and the frayed remains of his temper. He lowered his head until his chin rested atop her neatly coiffed hair, letting his eyes slip shut and sighing out the rest of his tension.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘Are the boys all right?’

‘Oh, they’re just fine. More in awe of you than ever, but fine,’ she said, chuckling and patting his shoulder.

He pulled away, smiling sheepishly. ‘I didn’t mean to lose it so thoroughly. I didn’t realise how upset I was until it was too late.’

‘I admit to being rather upset myself,’ Narcissa agreed, grimacing and fussing with the ends of his hair.

Lucius suppressed a grin--she couldn’t leave anyone’s hair alone. Harry’s hair had been driving her absolutely bonkers from the moment he arrived.

‘Yes, but you didn’t crack the windows,’ he pointed out ruefully. ‘Merlin, I haven’t acted like that since I was a boy just out of short trousers.’

She tilted her head back to peer at him quizzically. ‘Short trousers?’

He raised a brow. ‘Yes, my father made me wear them, as though we were living in the ’30s. Until I was thirteen, although fortunately, my uniform robes hid them at school, otherwise I would’ve died of humiliation before first year was out.’

She sputtered out a laugh. ‘How did I not know that?’

‘It was a very carefully guarded secret,’ he rumbled, shooting her a mock glare. ‘If you tell anyone, I’ll have to dispose of you.’

Narcissa grinned. ‘Well, I’ll hang onto the information for now. Until it comes in handy.’ She paused, sobering a bit. ‘And may I say how glad I am that you didn’t make Draco wear short trousers?’

He snorted. ‘I don’t want him to have any shameful secrets, if I can help it. The naked baby pictures you insisted on taking are bad enough.’

‘It’s a mother’s privilege to have that kind of blackmail material on hand. I’ll have to find another way to blackmail Harry about his girlfriends someday,’ she reflected, running one manicured fingernail along her jaw as she pondered.

Lucius frowned, slowly lowering himself into his favourite armchair. ‘Narcissa--he’s not our son.’

She shot him a nasty glare. ‘Don’t you dare tell me you’re not just as attached as I am. Not after that display downstairs.’

He flinched and looked away. Narcissa was perfect, an angel--but she was also a Slytherin. She knew how to play dirty when it suited her. Lucius considered it one of her finest qualities. It was just unfortunate when it suited her to use that power against _him_.

‘My personal feelings about the boy are irrelevant,’ he began slowly. ‘What is relevant is that I think that Dumbledore is responsible for Harry’s current situation. I’m almost certain of it, in fact. He put Harry with those awful creatures, and he no doubt had his reasons. He always does. That means he’ll likely want to put Harry right back there again.’ His fingers drummed anxiously on the armrests. ‘Dumbledore is the master of Hogwarts, he’s Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot, Fudge depends on him so greatly he may as well run the Ministry himself…. Even the Dark Lord was afraid to confront him openly. If he makes a play to get Harry back…I can’t protect him,’ he finished in a near-whisper.

His feelings didn’t matter. What mattered was that the fate of Wizarding Britain couldn’t be allowed to rest with a boy being raised by neglectful, abusive Muggles. Why, they might accidentally kill the boy before he was grown enough to attend Hogwarts, let alone fight anyone!

Her expression had melted into sympathy by then, and she sat on the armrest and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

‘We have a little time,’ she said firmly after a moment of thought. ‘As far as we know, Dumbledore doesn’t know that Harry is missing from the Muggles’ residence yet. Once he does, we have the added protection that you’ve searched the Ministry records, and no one has guardianship over Harry. Legally, no one has a claim on him--except for my cousin, of course, but being in Azkaban rather puts a damper on that, and even if he was mysteriously released, no one would let him have Harry. Not even Fudge is that stupid.’

Lucius privately disagreed, but let it pass in the interest of staying on topic.

‘There will be some delay as the Ministry flails about realising they never did anything about assigning Harry a guardian in place of Sirius, just taking Dumbledore’s word that he was safe. That gives us some time to develop a strategy.’

He frowned up at her. ‘I doubt we can come up with a strategy strong enough to counteract Dumbledore.’

Narcissa raised a brow at him and pinched him. ‘Not with that attitude, we can’t. He’s not invincible. Besides, we do have a few points on our side that I think you’re forgetting.’

‘Oh?’ he said doubtfully, rubbing his arm where she’d pinched him. ‘What points would those be?’

‘Number one is that Harry doesn’t want to go back. He wants to stay with us. He isn’t old enough to have any _legal_ say, naturally, but the Ministry does take the child’s wants into account--and he isn’t just any child, he’s the Boy Who Lived. It wouldn’t be good press for them to force him to go back to living with a family of Muggles, so that will work against Dumbledore’s influence and desires. It won’t look very good for him, either, that he was the one who placed Harry there in the first place, particularly if it gets out exactly what sort of treatment Harry was subject to,’ she added darkly.

Lucius firmly suppressed another hot tendril of rage. No wizard child should endure that--and definitely not at the hands of Muggles. But he had to stay in control if he was to be of any use at all.

‘And number two?’ he prompted instead.

Narcissa’s smile was so wicked and gleeful that he knew what she was going to say before she said it, and he bit down on a groan.

‘We have the inside track on what Dumbledore’s up to--Severus and I are still good friends, after all. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping us out,’ she said brightly.

Lucius sighed. Another half-blood in his house. And this one didn’t know basic personal hygiene. Joy.

‘Have you forgotten Severus’s history with men named Potter?’ he asked rather tartly.

‘No, but once he meets Harry, I’m sure it won’t be a problem. Harry’s a sweetheart,’ she added, her smile turning fond. ‘You know, despite how frightened he was at your little display of power, he still offered to come with me to check on you.’

Lucius was genuinely surprised. ‘Did he?’

The boy _was_ innocent and gentle. All he seemed to want was a little affection and approval. Those big green eyes of his were difficult to resist.

But he _must_ resist. Harry was both very powerful and potentially very dangerous--in more ways than one. He mustn’t get attached, or he risked losing sight of the big picture. And….

And what if they went head to head with Dumbledore and _lost_?

‘He’ll grow out of it,’ Lucius sniffed dismissively. ‘All children are sweet at first.’

Narcissa sighed and frowned at him, but didn’t argue. She was already a lost cause, he realised--she’d taken the boy firmly into her heart in less than twelve hours.

‘Very well. Invite your slimeball if you must,’ he said with bad grace. ‘We’ll see what he has to say. In the meantime, I’d like to talk to Harry before you send the boys to bed.’

.

\-------------------------

.

Harry endured a very, very long tour of every toy Draco owned. In fact, there were so many and Draco spent so long talking about them that they hadn’t had a chance to play at all when Narcissa and Lucius arrived. Harry was glad to note that Lucius didn’t look angry anymore--he wasn’t grinding his jaw, he was a more normal shade of pale instead of marble-white as he’d been in the dining room, and his eyes were no longer intense aqua-green, having returned to their usual pale blue-grey shade.

‘Harry, Lucius would like to talk to you about tomorrow before you go to bed,’ Narcissa said cheerfully.

Draco groaned unhappily. ‘But--!’

‘No buts,’ she cut him off serenely. ‘ _You_ , young man, are going to clean up this mess.’

Draco looked around at the mess he’d created by dragging out every toy into the middle of the floor and adopted an exaggerated pout. ‘That’s why we have house elves,’ he grumbled, but he moved to start cleaning up at a warning glance from his mother.

Harry followed Lucius out. ‘What’s a house elf?’ he asked, eager now that an opportunity to ask had finally arisen.

Lucius snorted. ‘They’re the most annoying creatures you’ll ever meet.’ When this didn’t clear the confusion from Harry’s expression, he added, ‘Magical servants.’

‘Oh.’

Harry had no idea why the thought of the Malfoys having servants should have surprised him so much--they were clearly _extremely_ rich. He supposed it was because he hadn’t seen a single sign of anyone besides the Malfoys themselves. The explanation that they were magical servants and that they were annoying hadn’t really told Harry what they were, either, but Lucius was apparently not in the mood to explain further, at the moment. He shrugged--he’d undoubtedly see a house elf, sooner or later, now that he was going to be staying here.

They arrived in Lucius’s study, which was only slightly smaller than Narcissa’s, largely because it had no sitting area, as hers did--or if it did, it was buried under mounds of papers. Harry couldn’t decide which. It was also difficult to tell what the décor was like, under all of the stacks of books and papers. He’d noted during Narcissa’s tour that Lucius appeared to have a _lot_ of books and papers, and now that he was fully inside the room, that impression was very decidedly confirmed. Nearly every available surface was covered with them, the shelves were stuffed with more books than they probably should have held, and there were rows of file cupboards on one wall overflowing with papers and parchments as well.

‘You have a lot of papers,’ Harry observed. ‘Why do you need so many?’

Lucius cleared off a stool for Harry and drew up a wobbly-looking chair beside it. He obediently clambered onto the stool and waited for his answer.

‘I have a great deal of business,’ Lucius said in a bored tone. ‘Three businesses, to be exact. A potions supply, a cauldron manufacturer, and a stationery supply. All of those generate a great deal of paperwork. In addition, I have my political aspirations, and I’m a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, both of which add to the pile considerably.’

The Hogwarts Board of Governors? Harry had heard of a school board before, so he wasn’t terribly surprised that Hogwarts had one, but he was now more confused than ever about why Lucius wouldn’t want Draco to go there. Particularly since he didn’t think that it was a bad school--otherwise, why would Lucius be on the board and Narcissa be so adamant that Draco _did_ attend it? And both of them had gone there, and they seemed very smart and very educated to Harry. He didn’t get a chance to ask, though, because Lucius had had a purpose in bringing Harry to his study.

‘Harry,’ he began, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Before we go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, there are some things you must know.’

Harry would have thought he was about to be told about more magical secrets, if it hadn’t been for the cautious, anxious expression on Lucius’s face. This was the sort of expression a person wore before they broke the news that they’d just run over your dog, and so Harry braced himself for bad news, hunching his shoulders and tensing.

‘Don’t slouch,’ Lucius scolded absently.

Harry straightened, and watched his cousin gather his thoughts.

‘First of all, I must tell you that your Muggle relatives lied to you about more than the existence of magic,’ he said at last, his voice low and hard. ‘Your parents were not killed in a car crash. I didn’t know your father well, as I said earlier, but I doubt that he ever rode in an automobile. The wizard methods of travel are much more convenient, so he would have had little use for such a device as a Muggle car. The very idea is preposterous.’ He paused, pursing his lips. ‘I did not know your parents personally, so I cannot vouch for their drinking habits, but the claim that they were ne’er-do-wells is patently untrue. Your father was an Auror--a wizard policeman, of sorts,’ he explained when Harry opened his mouth. ‘Your mother worked at a spellbook publishing company until you were born, or so I’ve been told. Both of them held their jobs until they decided to leave them and were not threatened with dismissal that I know of, so it’s unlikely that they were drunkards, either.’

Harry fumed. ‘Then why would they say that?’ he burst out. ‘Why would they say such horrible things about them when they weren’t true?’

He was so angry he was shaking, and to his shame, tears of rage and frustration welled up in his eyes. He was startled out of it when an empty vase on Lucius’s windowsill suddenly exploded into a thousand fragments. Fortunately, it was across the room, so none of the shards hit them. Harry gaped, his eyes clearing.

‘Did I do that?’ he whispered fearfully.

This ‘accidental magic’ business sounded less exciting all the time. He suddenly wanted very badly to be able to control it like Lucius and Narcissa and all the other trained adults could.

Lucius nodded and drew his wand. The mess of glass was instantly gone after he swished it once, as though it had never been. Harry stared in awe until Lucius spoke again.

‘It’s to be expected,’ he said grimly. ‘This is not a pleasant topic for either of us. Unfortunately, it must be had, and it must be had tonight, before you’re swamped tomorrow.’

Harry cocked his head, confused, but didn’t interrupt.

‘I have no idea why your relatives did or said any of the things they did,’ Lucius went on dismissively, ‘and I have no interest in delving into the motives of _Muggles_. The salient facts are that magic does, in fact, exist, and that you have been misled about the circumstances of your parents’ deaths.’

He paused again, considering Harry closely, and Harry tamped down on his urge to squirm under the scrutiny--and to demand answers. _Be patient._ It was a lot more difficult than it sounded.

‘Perhaps I should start from the beginning,’ he murmured, and took a slow, deep breath. ‘Long ago, before you were born, before even I was born, there was a young wizard named Tom Riddle. He was extremely bright and extremely talented, but he had several factors working against him--namely, that he was an orphan, and more than that, he was a half-blood.’

Half-blood? Harry bit down on his tongue so as not to interrupt, but carefully filed away the question for later.

‘Being raised in a Muggle orphanage had not helped him in any respect. As brilliant and talented as he was, he wished to make more of himself. He also wished to distance himself from his Muggle upbringing. In service of both of those desires, he renamed himself Lord--’

Lucius stopped suddenly, an odd twisted, pained look on his face, as though he’d got a sudden headache.

‘Lord what?’ Harry prompted, frowning.

The pained look increased, and Lucius shook his head. ‘I can’t say his name. I simply refer to him as the Dark Lord. Most others refer to him as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who.’

Harry’s frown deepened, as this struck him as very odd, but he didn’t question his cousin. Lucius would certainly know better than he. Magic was real, so who knew? Perhaps this Dark Lord guy had put a curse on his name so no one could say it.

‘Anyway, the Dark Lord soon began gaining followers, mostly by spouting his support of the pure-blood cause to those who most wished to hear it,’ Lucius continued. ‘Since he was such a powerful wizard--one of the most powerful ever seen in these times--it wasn’t difficult to convince people that his support was nearly a guaranteed victory. He also began to attract and form alliances with Dark creatures, as he was a Dark wizard himself. By the time I left school, it had become very apparent to all that he intended to take over Britain by any means necessary. Wizards and witches who spoke out against him disappeared overnight, and people began to be afraid. As you might expect, a resistance formed, and the wizarding world went to war.’

‘Oh!’ Harry cried, as Narcissa’s reference suddenly made sense.

Lucius raised a brow, but went on without comment. ‘The Dark Lord killed anyone who confronted him directly. If you stood in his way, you would die. His allies were less lethal, but still successful enough that, by the end of the ’70s, total victory seemed within the Dark Lord’s grasp. The resistance was mostly in hiding, and only one powerful wizard and his small group of followers stood against him. The Ministry had all but capitulated, and it seemed only a matter of time.’

Harry squirmed a little, wondering what this Dark Lord had to do with his parents and wishing Lucius would get to that part a little faster. He was getting tired, and all of this talk of a Dark Lord who killed everything in his path was a little bit scary--not that he’d admit it to anyone.

‘Then word reached the ear of the Dark Lord of a prophecy,’ Lucius said lowly, darting glances at the window and the door, as though he feared being overheard. ‘I do not know the exact details, but it made the Dark Lord nervous. The prophecy spoke of the one who would defeat him.’

He stopped and swallowed, his eyes nearly translucent in the firelight. Harry shivered, hugging himself a little.

‘I don’t know why he thought you were the one,’ said Lucius, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘You were only a baby. But then, I don’t know what the prophecy said. Perhaps it foretold of a babe who’d grow up to defeat him. It must have, because on Halloween, he went to the safehouse where the powerful wizard had hidden you and your parents.’

Harry slid off the stool, trembling. ‘I--’

He didn’t want to hear anymore. Lucius had said that the Dark Lord killed anyone who stood against him, so there was only one way for this story to end. He already knew his parents were dead, but…he somehow liked the version where they died in a car crash better, rather than being murdered by a dark and terrible wizard.

Lucius hesitated a moment, and then reached out and pulled Harry into his lap. Harry threw his arms around his neck and buried his face in his robes. Only after his trembling had abated did Lucius speak again, his tone soft, and he let Harry stay burrowed against his shoulder as he finished the tale.

‘He murdered both of your parents that night. Then he turned his wand on you.’ He paused, idly rubbing circles on Harry’s back. ‘No one knows exactly what happened--only that a huge chunk of the house had been blown off, and the Dark Lord had vanished. But you--you bore a scar in the form of a lightning bolt, but you were very much alive, and whole, otherwise. You’re the Boy Who Lived.’

The beginning of dinner suddenly made a whole lot more sense. Abraxas had immediately called him the ‘Boy Who Lived,’ without having to ask, and the need for this conversation before the trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow became clearer--and he didn’t like the picture that was coming into focus. Harry pulled his head back to look at Lucius worriedly. His cousin looked very old for a moment, his face lined with worries of his own, his eyes unusually dark.

‘So…people are going to know who I am?’ Harry croaked unhappily. ‘They’re going to see my scar and….’

Lucius smiled wearily. ‘We’ll put a small glamour on you, over your scar, but…it’s possible. Probable, even, given how strongly you resemble your father.’

Harry thought for a moment. ‘Then why don’t you put a--a glamour on my whole face, to hide who I am?’

An immediate head shake. ‘Not at your age. Large glamours can interfere with your developing magic, and potions to temporarily alter your appearance can damage your facial structure. It won’t be safe to take such measures until you’re twelve or thirteen--or _maybe_ as young as ten or eleven. I wouldn’t like to risk it, though. Even the small glamour to hide your scar risks leaving an imprint of the caster’s magic on yours, so it will have to be done carefully, and not left on for any longer than necessary.’

‘Oh,’ he muttered, disappointed.

Lucius patted his back. ‘Don’t worry, Narcissa and I will be there, and we won’t throw you to the wolves,’ he said almost gently, and helped him slide off of his lap.

‘That’s enough history for one evening,’ he added, speaking in his normal haughty, terse voice again. His face had relaxed into its usual disdainful expression as well. Harry was relieved.

They went back upstairs, where all was quiet, and Lucius led him back to his rooms ( _his rooms!_ \--Harry didn’t think he’d ever get over that). Narcissa and Draco were nowhere to be seen, and his elegant cousin looked uncharacteristically awkward for a moment as he stood in the doorway to Harry’s bedroom.

‘Do you…need help, with…?’

He gestured toward the bathroom.

Harry shook his head quickly. ‘No, I can do it,’ he asserted, with a little boy’s pride in the fact.

Lucius showed immediate relief. ‘Oh. Good, then. Good night, Harry.’

He paused a moment before bestowing a little pat on the head, and then hurried from the room muttering to himself. Harry wondered at that while he bathed and dressed in Draco’s old pyjamas, but mostly he was just pleased--Lucius had hugged him and let him sit in his lap, which no adult had ever done that Harry could remember, and he’d patted him on the head, which had only happened in the department store once, when some strange old lady had spotted Harry and called him a ‘dear boy’ before wandering off. The physical show of affection from his beloved cousin soothed an ache Harry hadn’t even known he had.

And on top of that, Lucius had told him the truth. It had been very difficult to hear--and still made Harry’s heart hurt at the thought--but having just learnt that he’d been lied to for most of his life by the adults who were supposed to care for him, Harry valued his honesty anyway, no matter how painful it was.

The fact that he was famous…. Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He’d dreamt, like most little boys who read too many books about knights and dragons, of one day being famous for being a powerful warrior who’d done glorious deeds, but that was just a silly little fantasy. There weren’t real dragons--he hoped, Harry thought, his eyes popping wide as he realised that Draco _had_ mentioned that ‘the real thing is much bigger’ when they were looking at his toy dragons. Oh, no, he might actually have to fight a _real dragon_ someday? The idea didn’t seem so appealing when there was a chance it might actually happen.

The fame issue was similar. It was one thing to say to yourself, ‘Someday, I’ll be famous and admired and everyone will know my name!’ It was quite another thing to find out that everyone _did_ know your name. It was more than a little intimidating, and Harry wished he could take back every fantasy he’d ever had about becoming a famous knight. The fact that he couldn’t even remember what he was famous for--being attacked by a powerful, evil wizard, and not only surviving, but possibly causing that evil wizard to blow up--somehow made it worse. He didn’t feel like he’d done anything to earn it, and what was the good of being famous if it wasn’t deserved?

He was just crawling into bed when Narcissa entered, looking concerned. She must have already known what Lucius was going to tell him, Harry realised.

‘Are you all right, Harry?’ she asked kindly.

Harry thought about it for a moment. His parents weren’t drunkards--plus. They were murdered by a horrible man--minus. He was famous for not being murdered by the same horrible man--minus.

He silently put his arms out for a hug, and she wasted no time in scooping him up. He wasn’t at all ashamed of snuggling into her arms, even when Draco suddenly burst into the room, interrupting them. Narcissa didn’t let go of him, just shot Draco an annoyed look.

‘I just tucked you in!’

Draco was unperturbed by glance or verbal reprimand. ‘Can I sleep with Harry tonight?’ he begged, bouncing on the balls of his feet. ‘You and Father hogged him all day and I hardly got to see him!’

She raised a brow. ‘And you’ll be asleep tonight, so how will that remedy the situation?’

‘Ooooooh, _please_?’ he whined, ignoring her logic. ‘Please, please, please? Harry won’t mind!’

Harry actually _would_ mind, if Draco was as active in his sleep as he was while awake, but…after the scary revelations he’d had, it might be nice not to be alone.

‘I don’t mind,’ he agreed quietly.

Narcissa visibly softened and dropped a kiss on the top of his head, making Harry’s face hot, his insides turning to goo.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Just for tonight.’

‘Yaaaaaaay!’ Draco bayed, and Harry regretted his decision.

Fortunately, not for long. Narcissa tucked them both in, side by side, and kissed them each on the forehead.

‘Do you need anything before you go to sleep, Harry?’ she asked gently.

He shook his head, and she smoothed his hair, smiling warmly.

‘Okay. Good night, Harry. I love you.’ She smoothed Draco’s hair, then. ‘Good night, Draco. I love you.’

‘Night, Mother,’ Draco yawned, snuggling down into Harry’s space. ‘Love you too.’

Harry’s face was still hot and he felt all warm and happy inside, like he’d never felt before. ‘Good night, Narcissa. I love you, too.’

Her smile widened and she turned out the lights, shutting the door behind her.

Draco snuggled closer, throwing an arm across Harry’s chest and yawning in his ear. ‘Good night, Harry. We’ll look at brooms tomorrow. You need a broom so we can go flying.’

‘I don’t need--’

Harry stopped. It was no use protesting, as Draco was already asleep. Shrugging to himself, he got comfortable (which was easy, despite the limpet clinging to him, as this bed was ridiculously soft compared to his cot in the cupboard) and soon drifted off, content despite the bad news he’d had at the end of the eventful day.

.

\----------------------------

.

Albus Dumbledore’s day had not been nearly so good as Harry’s. His first suspicion that something wasn’t right had actually come the day before, when the owl he’d sent to get Arabella Figg’s weekly report had not returned, and when he finally used a spell to track it, it was flying around in Wiltshire. It had eventually returned, but the fact that it was not only _not_ where it was supposed to be, but was instead casually hanging around in the county that was home to the Malfoys was great cause for concern. He’d sent another owl the next morning, and that had led to the second alarm.

Mrs Figg’s letter had been hysterical, but the gist of it was that the Dursleys had packed up and gone, and Harry had left with a man she didn’t know. No description was included, so Dumbledore headed for Surrey--after checking the alarms and wards set on Number 4 Privet Drive. Not a peep out of any of them. Not even the most important one--the blood ward. It was most disturbing.

Mrs Figg was still in a state of uproar when he arrived, but a Calming Draught-laced lemon sherbet soon solved that problem, and he shoved a cat off his lap and set to questioning her.

‘When did all of this happen?’

‘They must have been packing since last night,’ Mrs Figg said anxiously. ‘They left around eleven this morning. No one knows where they’ve gone, but the house is empty, save a few of the larger pieces of furniture.’

Dumbledore frowned. ‘And you’re certain they didn’t take Harry with them?’

She shook her head quickly. ‘No, it was only the three of them. Harry left earlier--at about nine o’clock, I think. With that man. I asked some of the neighbours just to double-check, and the ones who were outside confirmed it.’

He leaned forward a little, peering at her over his spectacles. ‘Who was it, Arabella? Who was the man?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said tearfully, trembling. ‘I’ve never seen him before. Neither had anyone else. Harry seemed to know him, though--he followed him willingly enough.’

That was most disturbing--perhaps a teacher?

‘What did he look like, the man who took Harry?’ he asked, forcing himself to relax and sit back.

Mrs Figg rubbed at her lips for a moment, thinking. ‘Well. He was definitely a wizard.’

The blood in his veins seemed to freeze, but he only said with deliberate ease, ‘Oh?’

She nodded vigorously. ‘Oh, yes. He was wearing robes, and he carried a cane. No Muggle would dress like that man dressed, he was certainly a wizard.’

A cane? Surely not….

‘And he had long blond hair. I saw that much from my window. I didn’t get a close enough look at him to make out much else, but that hair stood out. I’m sorry, Albus.’

He offered up platitudes and reassurances to the guilt-stricken Squib, but his mind was elsewhere. The description was unmistakeable--but why would Lucius Malfoy abduct Harry Potter? How had he even discovered where to find him? And why had Harry gone with him willingly? He couldn’t have known Lucius, so what reason could he have had to willingly abandon his family and go with a stranger? Lucius must have cast a compulsion charm on him or something of that nature. It was the only explanation.

More importantly, what were Lucius’s plans for Harry? Dumbledore feared the worst, as Lucius was well-known to have been Voldemort’s right-hand man before his disappearance, but a part of him held out hope that it was a political power play. Custody of the Boy Who Lived could only boost Lucius’s influence--and most likely, Lucius wouldn’t want it to be known that he’d been responsible for Harry Potter’s death. If he’d been planning to kill Harry, then hopefully he would have hidden his presence on Privet Drive, rather than arriving and leaving openly. Lucius was many things, but he was not a fool, as his enemies learnt to their detriment. Dumbledore had never made the mistake of underestimating him, and he wasn’t about to start now. However, it was difficult to gauge his intentions without more information.

The strangest thing about all of this was that a known, Marked Death Eater, a member of Voldemort’s inner circle, had arrived and walked straight through Dumbledore’s wards, and he hadn’t known a thing about it. Not a single one of his alarms had gone off. He cursed himself for never thinking to set an alarm that detected the presence of a Dark Mark--Lucius would have no doubt sensed that ward and attempted to disable it, but Dumbledore had latent wards that alerted him if the wards were tampered with, so either way, he would have known a wizard was on Privet Drive.

No matter now. After soothing Mrs Figg and assuring her that he would look into it, he made himself invisible to any of the Muggles’ notice and headed for Number Four to do some investigating.

He confirmed Mrs Figg’s report--the house was empty. Nothing of note there, then.

All of his wards were intact, as was the blood ward. There was no sign of tampering or interference of any kind, no stale traces of magic in the air--Lucius Malfoy had not performed any magic on Privet Drive. That meant that the wards had let him pass without a fuss at all. Why had they let him through without setting off any alarms? It was bad enough that his wards had failed to stop a known Death Eater, but how could they have permitted him without at least alerting him of a wizard’s presence on the property?

Dumbledore fiddled with them for quite some time, but they were all intact and working. The blood ward was slowly fading as Petunia Dursley and her family no doubt found other lodgings to call home, and it would dissipate completely once they moved somewhere permanent, but otherwise showed no sign of damage or tweaking. He wasn’t even certain it would have been possible to tamper with a blood ward--they were tricky, rare things. He’d only known about them thanks to an ancient, crumbling book Nicolas had given him for a birthday a few years prior to the attack, and then he’d been lucky that the circumstances were so specific. A brief glance at baby Harry’s memories of the attack had shown Dumbledore that a blood ward would work in this instance. There was a verbal warning from Voldemort, and an offer to flee with her life, and then Lily verbally declined and offered her life for her son’s, Voldemort had told her to stand aside but _had not verbally declined_ , and then Lily was killed. The verbal exchange was very important--Tom had unwittingly accepted a verbal contract. Usually, when witch mothers died for their offspring, there wasn’t time for a conversation beforehand, however brief, and so a blood ward was useless, but thanks to Severus’s plea for Lily’s life, Tom had initiated a dialogue, and Harry Potter had survived on his mother’s love and blessing and ancient blood magic laws she most likely hadn’t even been aware of.

As far as Dumbledore knew, the blood ward was supposed to keep out anyone who intended potentially fatal harm to Harry, which suited him perfectly. A Muggle boy with a grudge who wished to punch Harry could get through, which was regrettable, but unless a Muggle went after Harry with murderous intent, none of the Muggles would ever even notice the ward was there, which was crucial. Dumbledore had wanted Harry to attract as little attention as possible. However, it meant that, since Lucius Malfoy had openly walked straight through the blood ward, it had not detected any desire to kill or fatally injure Harry. It eased Dumbledore a bit, although Harry being with the Malfoys was still of grave concern. Just because Lucius had had no intention of killing Harry when he arrived and took him, it did not automatically follow that he wouldn’t change his mind and kill him later--and if he had darker, more nefarious plans than that, the blood ward would not have noticed, as that was not its purpose.

After setting a ward to alert him if any wizards of any kind arrived on the property, Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts to send out a message to a select few he trusted. Normally, he wouldn’t risk even a portion of the Order gathering in his office in the middle of the afternoon, but this was an emergency, as far as he was concerned.

It took them a while to all get away from their jobs and duties, so to Dumbledore’s distress and annoyance, it was past seven o’clock in the evening before they were all in his office, attentively and warily waiting to hear why they’d come. Severus, looking sour as always; Kingsley, frowning, and Alastor always looked like he was about to murder someone; Arthur, concerned, bless him; and Remus, frail and tired, and the only one who’d managed to arrive in a timely fashion because he was unemployed at the moment, again. Dumbledore wanted to keep the pool of people who knew as small as possible for the time being, and these five were the most trustworthy, either because they were genuinely loyal, good-hearted people, like Arthur and Kingsley, or because they owed him, like Severus and Remus. Alastor was trustworthy even if he _was_ a cantankerous wild card, and anyway, he’d never leak this news to the press no matter how angry it made him.

‘Harry Potter was abducted this morning from Privet Drive by Lucius Malfoy,’ Dumbledore said, after briefly informing them of where Harry Potter was _supposed_ to be, and whom he was supposed to be with.

There, that got the annoyed looks off of their faces--even Severus looked alarmed, rather than angry, for the moment at least.

‘My wards did not alert me, and the blood ward did not prevent Lucius’s entrance onto the property, so we may assume that, for the time being at least, Harry is safe,’ he added.

Remus and Arthur blew out audible breaths of relief, but still appeared deeply worried. Good.

‘And where were the Dursleys when Malfoy showed up?’ Alastor growled. ‘Are there bodies to clean up?’

‘No, according to my informant, the Dursleys were unharmed, and they moved out of their home two hours after Harry was taken,’ Dumbledore said, and reported what little information he had. With so little to go on, there was no point in withholding, at least right now.

Severus’s gaze was distant as he thought. ‘You say he went willingly?’

‘To all appearances,’ Dumbledore conceded grudgingly. ‘I suspect a compulsion charm.’

Severus made no reply, but his brows furrowed slightly. Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t vocalise it, so Dumbledore let it pass.

‘What do you want us to do?’ Remus asked quietly, his guilt and worry heavy on his face and in his voice.

He’d always felt guilty about not ‘being there’ for Harry, but Dumbledore had repeatedly convinced him that visits would only put the boy in danger, as he was certain it would. Remus was too well-known in the wizarding world for both his condition and his alliances, and it wouldn’t do for a Death Eater to follow him to Privet Drive on an ill-advised visit.

‘I want you to go to Wiltshire. I know you can’t actually enter the grounds, but stake out the manor as best you can outside of the wards. See who comes and goes. Report to me daily on any activity you see. If an opportunity arises to rescue Harry, don’t hesitate to take it.’

Remus nodded determinedly. ‘I’ll go now,’ he said quickly, and sped out of the room, as Dumbledore had known he would. It would be useful to have a pair of eyes outside as well as inside.

‘Arthur, Alastor, Kingsley, I need you to lay some groundwork for me at the Ministry. As of now, Harry’s legal magical guardian is Sirius Black, as no one ever bothered to change it, and I thought it best to let Harry fall through the cracks of the system. What we need is to start the process of finding him another guardian--me, or you, Arthur, or perhaps you, Kingsley, if you’re willing. It doesn’t matter, so long as it’s a member of the Order. We can decide that later, I just don’t want the Malfoys to get there first, as we’ll have difficulty fighting their claim on him.’

Arthur frowned, pushing up his glasses. ‘Why?’

Dumbledore sighed. ‘Because Abraxas Malfoy is Harry’s closest remaining magical blood relative. Since the Dursleys are Muggles, they have no standing in the Ministry, and Black is a convicted criminal, so the Malfoys remain the most likely candidates for guardianship of Harry. We _cannot allow_ that to happen.’

‘No, of course not!’ Arthur agreed quickly, paling at the thought.

‘We’ll see what we can do,’ Kingsley said, looking disturbed, and the three of them exited a little more slowly and decorously than Remus had.

Severus stirred from the shadows. ‘And me, Albus?’ he said, but he looked as though he already knew the answer. He probably did, as he had grown a little wiser since his foolishness had cost Lily her life.

‘You were once very close friends with Narcissa,’ Dumbledore said lightly. ‘Is that still true?’

Severus inclined his head. ‘Perhaps not quite as close as in school, but we write often, and she considers me something of a confidant.’

Dumbledore nodded--he’d mostly known, only wishing for confirmation that they hadn’t had a falling out recently. ‘Then see if you can’t wrangle an invitation. See what they’re up to, find out what their plans are, if you can. And most importantly, check on Harry. I want to be certain he’s alive and unharmed. If they plan to harm him, we won’t have the luxury of waiting for the Ministry to make a move.’

Severus’s lips pursed and his eyes glittered, but for once, Dumbledore couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It was most disturbing.

‘As you wish, Albus.’


	3. The Wolf at the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius wishes to cancel their planned trip when he becomes aware of a werewolf lurking outside the manor's wards.... Narcissa isn't concerned, and so the trip goes on as planned--though Lucius remains unhappy about it. Harry has many questions, but he tries his best to be patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the prejudices warning is in full effect, as Lucius has not got any less bigoted since the last chapter. ;)
> 
> There's a story from Beedle the Bard mentioned here, but I didn't recount the whole thing. Plus, according to the notes at the end of the story in Beedle, the Malfoys would have been using a different version than the one used in that book (a pure-blood-approved version, so to speak), so I couldn't have transcribed it anyway. There's enough context that you should be able to get it even if you haven't read Beedle the Bard.
> 
> Feedback of any kind is always welcome. Thank you for reading! :)

Lucius’s first awareness upon waking the next morning was that there was a wolf at the door.

Well, not a literal wolf--rather, a werewolf. And it wasn’t at the door, it was circling the property, most likely having learnt the boundaries of the wards during the night. He went to the window, but as expected, he saw nothing, even when his senses told him it should be passing just beyond the main gate--Disillusioned, then. An intelligent wolf, then, not of Greyback’s ilk, though sired by him, as likely as not. That filthy, mangy beast really got around, before they finally locked him up in Azkaban.

The wolf outside had made no attempts to break in, it was just…watching. Lucius had no way of sensing who it was, whether it was friend or foe, so he remained extra watchful, keeping a hand on the hilt of his wand whenever feasible.

This was one of those times when he wished Abraxas would give him the family’s heirloom wand--elm, dragon heartstring, of great age. It was more powerful than Lucius’s current wand, and responded to him better, on the rare occasions he’d been permitted to handle it. To this day, he still believed that Ollivander had paired him with the wrong wand to spite Abraxas, who’d spent the better part of an hour yelling at Ollivander for not finding the right wand more quickly, the day they went to purchase Lucius’s wand for Hogwarts. He’d ended up with the same core, but the wand was made of cedar, and it occasionally gave him fits, particularly when he was doing very delicate spellwork.

Lucius’s nerves were on edge and he practically prowled down to the family wing, pacing anxiously when he found Narcissa in Harry’s room, trying to tug both boys into some kind of presentable shape. She glanced up at him and turned her attention back to the boys.

‘Draco, why don’t you show Harry how to tie his tie? I’ll just be a minute.’

Draco pounced on Harry, bossily lecturing the quieter boy, and Narcissa stepped out into the hall with him.

‘We should postpone,’ he said as soon as the door was shut and a privacy charm was up.

‘What? Why? Harry needs--’

‘There’s a werewolf out there,’ Lucius cut her off seriously. ‘Just outside the wards.’

Narcissa fell silent, sobering at once. ‘What is it doing? Can you tell who it is?’

‘It’s pacing the boundaries of the property, and no, I can’t. Whoever it is, it’s Disillusioned, and I can’t sense any identifying markers from this distance,’ he said, allowing some of his frustration to show. ‘I would feel better if we waited to make any excursions until after I’ve had more time to assess it.’

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brows, folding her arms and cocking one hip. She clearly did not like this suggestion.

‘What?’ he snapped defensively.

‘The boys are already excited and nearly ready to go,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s only a little trip to Diagon Alley, and it’s just one werewolf. We can’t disappoint them for _one_ werewolf. It’s probably just looking for a new place to settle in for the month--the full moon was just a few nights ago.’

Lucius scowled, everything in him resisting. It was like that time she’d convinced him to buy Draco a toy potions set and he’d given in against his better judgment--Draco had concocted something he shouldn’t have been able to cook up on that little toy set, drank it, and been sick for a long time. He was only three at the time and had no idea what he’d done, so they weren’t quite sure to this day how or why it had happened. The lesson Lucius had taken from it was that he should listen to his instincts despite his desire to spoil his beloved only son; the lesson Narcissa had taken from it was that Draco shouldn’t be allowed to play with potions until he was older.

Right now, Lucius’s better sense was practically screaming at him to stay here, to stay put safe behind the wards.

‘Lucius,’ Narcissa said, running her finger down his chest, her lower lip poking out. ‘We’re all so looking forward to the outing. It’s a treat, coming on a weekday like this. Don’t disappoint the boys, please?’

She batted her eyelashes at him, and Lucius sighed, deflating.

‘We’ll Apparate from the entrance hall, through the wards,’ he said sternly. ‘So the wolf won’t see us go.’

‘Fair enough,’ she conceded, grinning, and planted a kiss on his lips.

Lucius’s cheeks heated and he retreated hastily, her delighted giggle following him down the hall.

He got to see the boys’ excitement for himself at the breakfast table, as Abraxas was absent again, so there was nothing to stop them from animatedly chattering. From what little he could pick up, Draco was telling Harry about every shop on the alley. Lucius was more concerned with Harry’s table manners--or rather his lack thereof. He’d noted it before, but now he added it to a mental list of improvements Harry would need before he’d be fit for pure-blood society. That meant he’d have to postpone seeing any of his fellow Death Eaters--and wasn’t that just a shame, he thought, smirking slightly. Even Draco wouldn’t mind, since not seeing his other friends meant having Harry to himself for longer.

After breakfast, he and Narcissa herded the boys--well, herded _Draco_ , as Harry obediently followed wherever they went--down to the entrance hall and took their hands.

‘We’re going to Apparate again, Harry,’ Lucius warned.

The boy nodded solemnly in acknowledgment, tightening his grip on Lucius’s hand, and squeezed his eyes shut comically.

A pop later, they were in a little recess just off the bustling district that was Diagon Alley.

He shook Harry’s hand, smiling. ‘You can open your eyes now.’

Harry did--and Lucius had a perfect view to watch those dazzling green eyes pop wide.

‘Wow….’

Lucius let go of his hand and adopted his usual cold sneer when in company, but Draco swiftly grabbed onto Harry and they began to thread their way to the crowd, Draco leading and Harry craning his neck and swiveling his head to try and look at everything at once. Narcissa watched them worriedly and hurried after them, while Lucius followed at a more sedate pace, enjoying how the crowds scrambled out of his way. A fearsome reputation was most useful at times like this.

‘Clothes first, boys,’ Narcissa admonished when Draco made a beeline for the Quidditch supply shop. ‘Madam Malkin is expecting us.’

Draco whined, crestfallen, but Harry abandoned him, latching onto Narcissa with a wide smile. Apparently, he was looking forward to having some clothes of his own.

Lucius had intended to make a stop elsewhere while Harry was being measured and picking out colours and patterns and Narcissa was making an inventory of his new wardrobe, but the appearance of the wolf had altered matters. Instead, he stood at the front of the shop and watched the crowds intently, scanning for threats, his hand firmly wrapped around the hilt of his wand.

There were several possible explanations for the sudden appearance of a werewolf at their doorstep, and none of them were good. Well, Narcissa’s explanation was all right, but Lucius didn’t buy it. The timing was too perfect--Harry arrives in their home and there’s a wolf parked outside the next morning? He did not believe in coincidences of that nature, and much as he loved his wife, she had a tendency to be too optimistic at times, leading to a lack of preparation when disaster hit. Of course, she often accused _him_ of being too paranoid and pessimistic, leading to over-preparation and stress. He disagreed, in the privacy of his thoughts, and outwardly responded, ‘Yes, dear.’ He didn’t believe in ‘over-preparation,’ and stress was a Muggle invention.

He’d narrowed it down to two likely scenarios: A) that some of his, ahem, _associates_ had figured out where Harry Potter was being hidden and had staked out the place, and after they saw him take the boy, they’d sent one of their werewolf lackeys to spy on them and find out what Lucius was up to; or B) that Dumbledore had found out that Harry and the Dursleys were missing, figured out who had taken Harry, and had sent one of _his_ werewolf lackeys to spy on them and find out what Lucius was up to. Personally, he was leaning toward option B, as he doubted Harry would have still been alive and/or in Dursley custody if the other Death Eaters had discovered his location. Even if they were unable to enter the property, it would have been easy enough to wait until Harry went to school or the park.

Neither option was comforting, though, as it meant Narcissa was incorrect--they didn’t have even a ‘little’ time. Lucius needed to formulate a plan as soon as feasibly possible to ensure that, for the time being at least, Dumbledore couldn’t remove Harry from their custody. A temporary guardianship order would be easy and quick to obtain, and Lucius intended to do so the minute Harry and his family were back at the manor, freeing him to go to the Ministry. That way, while Dumbledore could still fight him for Harry’s legal guardianship on a more permanent basis, he wouldn’t be able to have Harry removed immediately. It would buy them a little more time, time to come up with something more long-term. Lucius still had no clue how he could possibly convince anyone who wasn’t already on his side that Malfoy custody was an improvement over Sirius Black and/or the Dursleys, as his enemies would likely claim that _anyone_ was better than the Malfoys. He began mentally compiling a list of all of the wizards he knew in the Family  & Agriculture Office--it would be useful to know who was likely to side with him regardless, whose pockets he could pad to _convince_ them to side with him, and who would be implacable and have to be worked around. Unfortunately, he’d never had much need for that office previous to this, so he had very few contacts….

‘Cousin Lucius, look, look!’ Harry squeaked excitedly.

Lucius briefly flicked his gaze away from the crowds outside the window. Harry was newly outfitted in trousers and a pullover that fit correctly. The pullover was green, bringing out his eyes even more. Those ghastly shoes, too large for Harry’s feet by several sizes and falling apart at the seams to boot, had been replaced with new black shoes his size. He might have looked respectable, had it not been for his perpetually messy hair and his over-sized, taped-together glasses. Those glasses were going to be next to go--Lucius fully intended to make St Mungo’s his second stop after the Ministry, to make an appointment for a mediwizard to make a house call.

‘Much better,’ Lucius said curtly. ‘Are we finished?’

He wanted to conclude their business and get home.

‘Almost,’ Narcissa said when Harry just shrugged. ‘She’s wrapping up a few more outfits for us to take with us, and then she’ll send the rest to us when she’s finished them.’

He nodded and tapped his cane impatiently, still eyeing the crowds for suspicious signs. So far, he hadn’t seen anything, but that didn’t mean he could relax his guard.

‘ _Now_ can we go to the Quidditch shop?’ Draco whined loudly. ‘I want Harry to get a Ballycastle Bats poster!’

Harry’s frown spoke volumes, but he lowered his head and didn’t contradict Draco. Lucius scowled, not liking this at all.

‘ _Draco_!’ he snapped, in a much sharper tone than he would have if he hadn’t been tense as a coiled spring. ‘Have you considered asking Harry what _he_ would like to do next?’

‘It is his first time in Diagon Alley,’ Narcissa agreed more kindly, shooting Lucius an annoyed glance. ‘There might be other things Harry would like to see, and you’ve been known to spend upwards of three hours in the Quidditch shop.’

Draco looked sheepish, blushing and nudging Harry’s shoulder. ‘Sorry. Do you want to go to the Quidditch shop?’

Harry hesitated. ‘Well…yeah, but…maybe we could go to the bookshop first? There’s so much I don’t know, and I’d like to get some books to help.’

Draco scoffed. ‘You don’t need _books_ , you’ve got us!’ He quailed at the look on his mother’s face. ‘Er, right, yeah, let’s go to the bookshop.’ Then he brightened. ‘They’ve got loads of Quidditch books.’

Lucius sighed inwardly and hoped that someday, somehow, his son might learn to care about subjects other than Quidditch. His Quidditch craze had hit at five, when he’d got his first broom (spelled not to fly any higher than a foot off the ground, of course, Lucius wasn’t _completely_ insane), and it hadn’t let up since.

Harry seemed not to mind, though, merely humming or nodding his agreement when Draco’s chatter paused for a moment, and in the shop, he mostly ignored Draco’s suggestions, turning to Narcissa for guidance instead. Lucius didn’t see much of what they bought, as he stayed near the front of the shop again, standing guard. (He trusted Narcissa to be able to defend the boys if it turned out there was a threat already inside.) There must have been a lot, though, because when they returned to the counter, he overheard the clerk ask if they’d like the books wrapped and shrunk for them, and Narcissa said yes.

Lucius was impressed--Draco rarely came home with _one_ book when they visited the bookshops, and then it was usually a book about brooms or flying or Quidditch. Harry was apparently serious about learning about the wizarding world. It made Lucius feel a little proud, and comforted him--he’d clearly made the right decision to rescue Harry, as not only did he _deserve_ to be made aware of his heritage, he _wanted_ to know about it. Then another thought occurred--they might all be Quidditch books.

‘How many books did you get?’ he asked in an innocent tone as they threaded their way back through the crowds to the Quidditch shop.

Narcissa and Draco had dropped a bit behind them, so if he spoke softly enough, they wouldn’t hear. Harry was clinging to his sleeve, as he was now beginning to get strange looks as the older witches and wizards in the crowd finally became awake enough to register his resemblance to James Potter. All the more reason to leave sooner, rather than later, in Lucius’s opinion. They’d avoided being stampeded upon arrival, thanks to the glamour over Harry’s scar, and he had no desire to wait around long enough to be stampeded now.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Harry. ‘I lost count around twenty.’ Then his forehead scrunched and he looked up at Lucius worriedly. ‘Is that okay? Narcissa told me to get whatever I wanted--I didn’t mean to spend too much money--’

‘I’m not concerned about the money,’ Lucius said, barely suppressing a laugh. ‘I’m glad you got whatever you wished, I was merely curious.’

‘Oh,’ Harry said, his shoulders slumping with relief.

Lucius raised a brow at him. ‘And how many Quidditch books were in the pile?’

He grinned. ‘Only two, and Draco’s really angry. He made me get _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and this big book with a description of every League Cup ever, but he wanted me to get all of them, I think.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Lucius said, smirking--and was proud again.

He couldn’t help noting Harry’s terminology--‘ _he made me get_.’ If Draco wasn’t careful, his enthusiasm for the sport was going to sour Harry on it before the boy had ever had a chance to watch a single match. He debated warning Draco of this possibility, and then decided he had more important concerns--let events between the two of them unfold as they would. It would do Draco good to discover that people couldn’t always be forced to do as he wished by his pouting and tantrums, just because his parents had a tendency to cave, Lucius thought ruefully. He was fully aware of his own guilt in Draco’s spoiled nature, but had very little clue how to fix this flaw in himself. If Draco whined and pouted enough, he inevitably either gave in because his son’s teary eyes softened him, or because he was so annoyed that he would do literally anything to make Draco shut up and go away. And Narcissa, well…unless she feared for Draco’s life, she said yes to anything and everything. If it was a serious safety issue, no amount of whining and crying on Draco’s part could move her, he’d give her that.

Inside the Quidditch shop, Lucius dutifully took up his post near the door, while Draco dragged Harry off into the shelves, talking so rapidly that Lucius doubted Harry understood a word of it. Narcissa trailed after them with obvious distaste, but she’d picked up on his mood and knew better than to send him after the boys instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, merely that her optimism could blind her to suspicious behaviour. He was on the alert, so he took note of everything--even a wizard who paused just a little too long in the window. It turned out to be nothing, but he’d rather notice and have it be nothing than _not_ notice and regret it.

It was a surprisingly short time later (only _two_ hours) that they returned, Harry bearing a pile of Ballycastle Bats products, and Draco bouncing up and down like a hyperactive house elf. Narcissa appeared to be exhausted, and she shot Lucius a nasty look that promised retribution in the near future.

‘Father, we must get Harry a broom!’ Draco exploded as soon as he was near enough to yank on Lucius’s robe with each bounce. ‘We must, we must! He can’t use my old broom, that’s for _babies_ , he needs a real broom! Can we get him a Comet like mine? Oh, you just _have_ to, Father!’

Lucius brushed Draco’s hands off of his robe. ‘Yes, yes, fine,’ he said testily. ‘If they still have one.’

‘YES!’ Draco yelled, and then, to his mother, ‘Told you he’d say yes!’

Before either parent could respond, Draco was off to find the correct broom model. Narcissa’s nasty look only grew nastier, and Lucius had another reason to regret letting his irritation get the better of him. Again.

‘I really don’t need a broom,’ Harry said uncomfortably, nearly dropping half of the fan gear in his arms. ‘I could learn on a little kid broom….’

Narcissa softened, reaching out to fuss with his hair. ‘Maybe for your first few lessons, but there’s no reason you shouldn’t have a broom of your own, Harry dear.’

He just turned red and mumbled something.

‘You can learn on your own broom,’ Lucius put in, awkwardly trying to make the boy feel better about the whole thing. ‘The other broom was because Draco was too small to risk a long fall. It’s likely he would have bounced anyway, but he was only five and had only recently got over an illness, so we weren’t willing to risk it. You’re old enough that unless you fly above the wards, you shouldn’t be seriously hurt if you fall.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry. He blinked at the armload of Quidditch robes, posters, and other Bats merchandise in his arms. ‘Do I really need all this stuff?’

‘Things, Harry,’ Narcissa corrected.

He reddened again. ‘Sorry. Do I really need all of these things?’

She smiled approvingly.

‘Probably not, but it seems to have improved Draco’s mood,’ Lucius sighed. ‘Humour him, please, or he’ll be horrible at lunch. Particularly since I won’t be there, so it will double his reasons to pout.’

Harry’s crestfallen expression was oddly touching. Lucius quickly squelched the feeling, looking away.

‘Where are you going?’ Harry asked mournfully.

‘I have a few errands to run,’ he said, his tone deliberately cool.

‘Oh.’

Lucius noted that there were quite a few people pointing in the shop window, and they weren’t looking at brooms.

‘Fetch Draco and tell him to hurry up,’ he said curtly. ‘We’re going to have company in a short while if we don’t get a move on.’

Narcissa glared, opening her mouth to argue, but when he jerked his head at the window, she looked at the gawkers, then at Harry, then the gawkers again, and realisation dawned. Without a word, she hurried off after Draco.

Lucius felt that part of the reason they hadn’t already been ambushed by a crowd was because he was standing with Harry, so he abandoned the door in favour of escorting Harry to the register to start paying for their purchases, sticking close to his side. Narcissa and Draco returned with the ‘correct’ broom, and all that was left was to get through the crowd outside and back to the Apparation point. He took a deep breath and adopted his coldest expression.

‘Hold on to me,’ he murmured to Harry.

The boy immediately latched on to his arm, his eyes wide, and they stepped out of the shop. As soon as there was room, Narcissa shoved Draco close to Harry’s other side, sandwiching the boys between them, and they started through the crowd of staring people. If Dumbledore hadn’t known before this, he would certainly know now, Lucius thought with a grimace. Not one of the witches or wizards was silent, all of them whispering to each other and pointing at Harry.

_‘Is that Harry Potter?’_

_‘With the Malfoys? It can’t be!’_

_‘It certainly looks like him--looks like his dad.’_

_‘But where’s the scar?’_

_‘Harry Potter has a lightning bolt scar on his forehead! Are you sure that’s him?’_

The crowd didn’t part for Lucius out of fear the way they usually did, either, too preoccupied with staring at Harry, so Lucius glared coldly at each individual person in his way until they noticed, whereupon they paled and scuttled to one side. It took a lot longer than it should have for them to make it home, and Harry was shaking by the time they made it. Lucius removed the glamour, but he hesitated to shake off the boy’s grip on his robe--Harry was pale and wide-eyed, clearly upset by his run-in with the crowd.

‘I don’t want to be famous,’ he said plaintively when he noticed Lucius looking down at him. ‘Make them leave me alone?’

Lucius felt as though something in his chest had cracked, and instead of brushing him off, he found his hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder.

‘Harry….’

But there was nothing to say. It wasn’t a request that was within his power to grant. He tried to smile comfortingly, but it wasn’t an expression he had much practise with. Still, Harry seemed comforted, his shaking abating and some of the colour returning to his face. When Narcissa stepped over and offered a hug, both boys gladly latched onto her. Draco wasn’t particularly upset, but Lucius had never known him to pass up a hug anyway.

He cleared his throat. ‘I do have those errands to run. Please stay inside until I return.’

Draco whined, but this time, Lucius ignored him, disappearing with a pop.

.

\----------------------

.

Harry was glad it was too cold and windy to fly yet, because that was all Draco wanted to do. Narcissa had put her foot down, though, threatening to lock up the brooms if Draco tried anything.

‘Harry hasn’t had any lessons yet, your father isn’t here, and besides, it’s freezing! Do you want him to catch his death? No, neither of you will be flying today! I won’t have it.’

Draco had reluctantly allowed that they could put Harry’s new things away instead, so the boys had taken the un-shrunken packages upstairs and diligently begun putting things away. Draco whined about how unfair it was, mostly, but Harry was enjoying himself. He’d never in his life owned this much stuff, so putting things away and picking up after himself was a novelty.

‘I don’t know why we should have to,’ Draco said for the umpteenth time. ‘That’s why we have house elves, but for some reason, Mother and Father are always making me put things away myself! Especially when they’re angry with me. It’s pointless! If I leave it out, a house elf just puts it away for me later anyway.’

Harry thought that was not being very nice to the house elves, who probably had a lot of work to do already in a house this big with such enormous grounds, but he didn’t want to make Draco angry, so he didn’t say so.

‘I’m putting your poster over here, hope you don’t mind,’ Draco drawled as he pinned the Bats poster to the wall beside the window.

Harry would rather have had it on the back of the door, like Dudley had done with his _Star Wars_ poster, but he bit his tongue. It was basically already done, so there was no point in making a fuss and asking Draco to move it.

Besides, he was busy putting away all the toys and clothes he’d somehow accumulated. The toys were all Quidditch-related, since they hadn’t had time to go to a toy shop before people started noticing him, but still--he had toys of _his own_ , and they weren’t broken! As tired as Harry was getting of hearing about Quidditch, Lucius had said that Harry’s father played very well, and Lucius had been a Chaser. He was trying his best to keep an open mind, because it had to be fun, or it wouldn’t be so popular, right? It was just that it was _all_ Draco talked about…. Harry wanted to know about other parts of the wizarding world, too--he somehow doubted that an intimate knowledge of Quidditch was going to get him passing marks at Hogwarts, unless all of the classes had ‘Quidditch’ in front of their names.

‘What are these?’ Draco asked with a faint edge of disdain.

He’d found Harry’s soldiers. Harry padded over and plucked the little dragoon out of Draco’s hand.

‘ _He_ is a captain. He’s in charge here, so don’t manhandle him,’ Harry said with fake importance in his poshest voice. ‘And that one is the artillery sergeant.’

Draco’s face was screwed up in confusion. ‘What?’

Harry grinned. ‘Don’t you have any toy soldiers?’

He blinked. ‘Um. No?’

‘Right, well, this is a dragoon. You can tell because he’s got a horse and no one else does. He’s the captain of the little green chaps. And _this_ is the admiral, he’s the commander of the little red men--you can tell he’s an admiral because of the sailor cap. I’m missing most of the pieces because Dudley lost them or broke them, but there’s still enough left to make them battle.’

Draco’s eyes lit up. ‘Battle?’

Harry’s grin widened.

When Narcissa came to fetch them for dinner (as they had missed lunch and she’d assumed they were eating upstairs, too involved to come down), there was a full-blown war going on, complete with explosion sounds and dragons, despite the fact that Muggle armies probably never had to fight dragons, and they were several times too large for the tiny metal soldiers.

‘Oh, dear,’ Narcissa said, pressing a hand to her mouth. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘Draco’s navy kidnapped the princess,’ Harry explained matter-of-factly, ‘so Captain Lucius and his brave soldiers are trying to rescue her before she’s forced to marry the evil Lord Dumbles. The problem is, they didn’t know Lord Dumbles had a magic pact with some local dragons.’

‘So Captain Lucius and his men are on a quest to get their own dragon, while Lord Dumbles’s dragons chase them,’ Draco added, grinning wickedly.

Harry held up the toy dragon in his hand. ‘This is Freckles, and he’s a nice dragon who might help them, but he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, so Captain Lucius has to convince him that the princess needs his help.’

The ‘princess’ was a Chocolate Frog card of Morgan le Fay, propped up against the toy castle Draco had dragged in from the playroom.

Narcissa nodded seriously. ‘I see. Well, do Captain Lucius and his men have time for a supper break?’

Harry’s stomach growled and he popped to his feet. ‘Oh, yes! They’re starving! They didn’t bring any food on the quest!’

Draco jumped up, too. ‘And all of the dragons ate Lord Dumbles’s food stock!’

‘I see. Well, it just so happens that Queen Narcissa is offering victuals, so long as a truce is called during the meal.’

Both boys agreed enthusiastically. To their surprise and delight, Abraxas was absent again, but Lucius was sitting at the head of the table, reading the _Evening Prophet_ with a bored expression.

‘Cousin Lucius, you’re back!’ Harry cried joyously. ‘Did you get all of your errands done?’

Lucius sniffed and didn’t look up from his paper. ‘Yes, I was successful on all counts. A healer is coming next Monday to examine you.’

Draco snickered as Harry’s face fell.

‘A healer?’ he echoed, disheartened.

He hadn’t been to the doctor very often, but he hadn’t liked it on any of those occasions. They jabbed him with needles and scolded him for not eating enough and getting into fights (as Aunt Petunia always told them beforehand that he wouldn’t eat what he was given, sneaking away and throwing it away no matter what they tried, and that any marks or bruises were from Harry picking fights, rather than from Dudley and his friends).

‘Yes,’ Lucius said curtly. ‘At ten o’clock on Monday. I don’t want to hear another word about it, as you’re not getting out of it.’

Harry shut his mouth and stared glumly at his plate.

‘Apparently, you’ve been fighting wars,’ Narcissa put in cheerfully.

‘What?’ Lucius said irritably.

Even though he’d said he’d completed his errands, it must have been more difficult than he expected, Harry thought, because his cousin seemed to be in a bad mood.

‘Harry and Draco have been playing with Harry’s toy soldiers,’ she explained patiently. ‘Captain Lucius is the commander of Harry’s army.’

A pause. ‘Oh, he is, is he?’ Lucius said, and his tone was considerably lighter.

‘Yes, and “Lord Dumbles” is the commander of Draco’s evil army,’ she added, amused.

Harry looked up in time to see Lucius smile, although he suppressed it a moment later, and he felt a little better. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad--he didn’t like needles, but he could take it, he supposed, and Lucius and Narcissa weren’t likely to tell the healer any bad lies about him, so maybe he wouldn’t get scolded this time.

‘I wrote a letter while you were gone,’ Narcissa said after Draco had finished telling Lucius the whole saga. ‘We’ll be having a visitor on Saturday.’

Lucius sighed, but Draco lit up. Narcissa just smirked to herself; Harry was terribly confused and kept looking from one to the other.

‘Uncle Severus?’ Draco gasped hopefully, and let out an ear-piercing yell of joy when Narcissa nodded.

Harry blinked. ‘Who?’

Narcissa smiled, but it was Lucius who explained, clearly annoyed but resigned.

‘Severus Snape is an old friend of Narcissa’s, from Hogwarts and their Occlumency lessons later, and occasionally he is a tutor for Draco, when I am forced to be away on business or Narcissa is otherwise engaged.’

‘Oh,’ Harry said, frowning.

‘He was in your father’s year,’ Lucius added as an afterthought.

Harry was immediately looking forward to the man’s visit, to the point that he could barely sleep that night, even though Narcissa had forced Draco to sleep in his own bed this time.

.

\-------------------------

.

‘It’s in the news,’ Lucius said after the boys were in bed.

He tossed the _Evening Prophet_ on her vanity and started pacing.

 _‘Boy Who Lived Spotted with Malfoys?!’_ was the main attraction. There was no photograph, thank Merlin, but that was the only saving grace. There were dozens of statements from dozens of eyewitnesses, all of them saying the same thing--‘we saw a boy who looked just like Harry Potter but no scar.’

‘If Dumbledore didn’t know already, he knows now. And since it was that Skeeter woman who wrote that article, it won’t be long before there’s more.’

Narcissa grimaced, daintily tugging the paper closer. ‘But you said you were successful? I take it you’ve taken steps.’

He nodded, patting the pocket where a copy of the certificate lay. ‘Yes, I’ve filed for and been granted temporary custody of Harry, pending an investigation.’ He sighed. ‘I didn’t want an investigation opened, but it was the only way they’d grant the temporary custody. Apparently it’s standard procedure, since by filing for custody, I’m essentially saying that his current guardians aren’t any good, so they want to know why.’

Her expression remained grim. ‘Which means they’ll know in short order that Sirius is still technically his magical legal guardian, and it probably won’t be long after that they’ll discover he was living with those Muggles.’

‘Exactly. Which leads directly to the confrontation with Dumbledore, which we are not ready for.’ Lucius frowned at the wall, his hands itching to move, to do _something_ , but all he could do for now was wait. ‘What worries me is whether they’ll even consider what Harry had to go through with those Muggles over Dumbledore’s word. Will they believe a child over the most powerful wizard in Britain?’ he asked bitterly, not expecting an answer.

‘Will they believe the Boy Who Lived over Albus Dumbledore, you mean,’ she corrected tersely. ‘ _He_ was a lot more recent than Grindelwald.’

Lucius did not share her optimism, as usual, but….

He forced a smile. ‘I suppose you’re right. I’ll probably feel better about the whole thing after we talk to Severus and find out what Dumbledore is up to. I saw Arthur Weasley sniffing around the Family & Agriculture Office when I arrived, so I’m sure he’s doing _something_.’

‘Either that or the Ministry has finally done something sensible and is taking away a few of their children,’ Narcissa said with a snort. ‘I’ll feel better, too. It’s only a few days, Lucius, and your quick thinking has bought us six months at least--you know an investigation will take _at least_ that long. Probably more like a year, knowing the Ministry.’

 _That_ was certainly true, and some of the tension in Lucius’s shoulders eased. ‘Indeed.’

They were guaranteed to have Harry until the investigation was officially closed--even Dumbledore couldn’t work around that, as it was perfectly legal, and more than that, standard procedure. It wasn’t victory, but it was at least a reprieve for them to plan.

Her gaze turned tender. ‘It was well thought of, Lucius--the healer, I mean,’ she said quietly, changing subjects. ‘Harry certainly needs new glasses, and I’m curious to find out if he has any specific nutritional deficiencies. I doubt he got enough fruits, living on leftovers and bread.’

He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I was being practical. If we are to win Harry, we must feed him, but we also require proof that upon arrival here, he was _not_ fed properly. I’ve also asked the healer to catalogue any evidence of old injuries or other mistreatment.’

Narcissa smiled knowingly. ‘Yes, of course, Lucius. Very practical.’

His face warmed, but since she was ostensibly agreeing with him, there was nothing he could say in protest.

.

\------------------------

.

There was only one day left of the regular week, but Narcissa insisted that Draco needed to return to his studies, particularly since today was the day he was supposed to work on his ledger and he’d spent a great deal of money in the Quidditch shop, and she wanted to go ahead and test Harry so she knew where to start him next week. Harry had never liked taking tests or quizzes or exams (his nerves always seemed to get the better of him and he second-guessed himself the whole time), but Narcissa was kind and encouraged him to take his time, so it didn’t end up being so bad. She even let him leave and go stretch his legs in the garden when he needed a break, as long as he stayed near the house so he wouldn’t get lost.

Harry’s heart sank after lunch, though, as she looked over his work and pursed her lips.

‘Your penmanship needs work,’ she said gently. ‘You’re as behind in maths as I suspected.’ She paused, brightening a little. ‘You have a good grasp of spelling and grammar, actually, but you seem to have trouble organising your thoughts. We can work on that, since you’ve got the basics down. You also seem to have some idea of how a ledger works, although I can see it will take you some time to adapt to wizarding currency.’

He was relieved she was at least pleased about a few things.

As it turned out, they didn’t have homework, but Narcissa encouraged him to study and practise things they’d learnt as often as he wished. Draco stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes behind Narcissa’s back, clearly disgusted by the idea. Harry didn’t share his opinion--he didn’t _enjoy_ studying and doing schoolwork, but he was determined to catch up to Draco, and when they went to Hogwarts, he wanted to do the Malfoys proud. He didn’t want them to regret taking him in for any reason, and studying was something within his control.

‘Your father was Head Boy,’ Harry said that evening as they readied for bed (Draco was forbidden to sleep in the same room, but he’d still made a habit of bringing his clothes in and getting ready with Harry, apparently desperate for ten more minutes with his cousin). ‘Your mother was a prefect. Aren’t you worried about making prefect, too? You have to have high marks for them to make you a prefect.’

Draco shrugged, tugging his nightshirt over his head. ‘It doesn’t really matter, as long as I get at least an Acceptable on all of my O.W.L.s. With Dumbledore as headmaster, I’ll never make prefect anyway.’

Harry blinked, making the connection between Draco’s fictional ‘evil Lord Dumbles’ and Dumbledore.

‘Who’s Dumbledore? And why wouldn’t he make you a prefect?’ he wondered.

‘Dumbledore’s a crazy old wizard,’ Draco said carelessly. ‘He defeated some other crazy old wizard once, so now everyone thinks he’s the smartest, most powerful wizard in the world. The Ministry practically throws itself at his feet whenever he arrives. He’s the headmaster at Hogwarts, but he’s also a bunch of other stuff, too. He’s got his hands in everything, because _he_ thinks he’s the best wizard ever, too. He won’t make me a prefect because he hates all the Malfoys.’

This was offensive to Harry, who worshipped the ground Lucius walked on, thought Narcissa was secretly a fairy queen despite her denial at their first meeting, tolerated Draco with a slowly growing amount of genuine affection, and, while he didn’t particularly like Abraxas, considered him above reproach, if only because he was Lucius’s father. Well, that and because he was pretty scary--Harry couldn’t imagine even this Dumbledore fellow staring him down.

‘But why?!’ he sputtered angrily.

Draco sniffed haughtily in a near-perfect imitation of his father. ‘Because we’re the best. Everyone always hates you if you’re better than them, because they’re jealous.’

That made sense to Harry. The Malfoys were rich and elegant and powerful and intelligent, and probably good at everything, too. There was a lot to be jealous of.

‘I wish I was a Malfoy,’ Harry agreed. ‘But I don’t hate you for being better than me.’

Draco grinned, hopping on Harry’s bed. ‘Well, of course not. You’re sort of a Malfoy. You’re an honorary Malfoy. Malfoys don’t hate other Malfoys. We stick together.’

Harry felt a little guilty, then--he didn’t _hate_ Abraxas, he just thought he was intimidating and he didn’t like him very much at all. Still, he didn’t hate him, and he wouldn’t want anyone to say anything bad about him, so it was probably okay.

‘Do you think Dumbledore won’t let me be a prefect, then, either?’ he asked instead, neatly placing his new slippers beside the bed.

Draco shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It depends.’

‘On what?’

‘How much he hates us versus how much he likes you because you’re the Boy Who Lived.’

Harry frowned. ‘Oh.’

Draco’s look turned curious. ‘I don’t know why you hate being famous so much. You could really turn that to your advantage, you know. If I was famous, I’d get everyone to bring me monthly sacrifices in the form of candies and toys,’ he added, a greedy, wistful gleam in his eye.

Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled uncomfortably.

All he’d ever wanted was to be normal. It seemed unfair that less than two days after finding out he wasn’t a freak but, in fact, a wizard, he found out he wasn’t a normal wizard, either--he was a _special_ wizard who’d apparently done something impossible. Why, for once, couldn’t he just be a regular kid, not singled out for anything? He couldn’t even be a normal orphan, as most orphans weren’t parentless because their parents had died defending them from a Dark Lord! Harry would gladly trade lives with Draco--give him the fame and take the loving parents instead--but he didn’t say so. It didn’t seem likely that Draco would understand.

Narcissa burst in before either of them could say anything more.

‘All right, boys, time for bed,’ she said firmly but kindly. ‘Draco, off the bed, you have your own.’

‘Oh, but I was hoping you’d read us a story!’ Draco whined, pouting. ‘You haven’t read any stories since Harry got here, and Harry hasn’t heard any of them!’

She hesitated. Harry didn’t enjoy Draco’s whining--it was his least favourable quality, and reminded him more than a little of Dudley--but he had to agree that he wouldn’t mind a story. He was curious about wizard stories.

He looked up at her hopefully. ‘Please?’ he added, in a much less whiny tone than Draco. ‘I’ve never heard a wizard story.’

Narcissa smiled, and the boys exchanged a triumphant glance.

‘Oh, all right. But afterward, straight to _your own_ bed, Draco, understood?’

He grinned, helping Harry climb onto the bed. ‘Yes, Mother.’

She helped them settle in before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling a book out of her robe. Harry jumped with surprise, and realised she must have known all along that they’d want a story. When he looked up at her, she winked conspiratorially, pressing a finger to her lips.

‘Now then, something from _Beedle the Bard_ , I think,’ she said imperiously.

Draco scowled. ‘That one’s for babies, and you read out of it _all the time_.’

She raised a brow at him. ‘It’s also a cherished classic in the wizarding world, and we’re supposed to be educating Harry, remember? How embarrassing would it be for him not to know who Babbity Rabbity is?’

‘Oh,’ said Draco. ‘I suppose that’s true.’

Harry wondered if it really _was_ for babies, as ‘Babbity Rabbity’ did not sound like a very promising character name, but he said nothing. Besides, he trusted Narcissa to know what things he needed to learn, even if it felt kind of stupid. He had to remind himself that even if it was for babies and little kids, he still needed to learn it, because a kid who grew up in the wizarding world would know it. The difference was that they’d grown up with it, and he needed to catch up.

‘Draco likes me to skip to the “good” ones, but we’ll start at the beginning,’ she went on. ‘So, “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot.”’

‘It’s just a pot who defends its wizard by eating Muggles,’ Draco said, yawning. ‘Not nearly as good as some of the other ones.’

‘Hush,’ said Narcissa, and began to read.

It wasn’t a very long story, but Draco fell asleep anyway. Harry listened thoughtfully, and when she was finished, he had questions.

‘If he was such a powerful wizard, why didn’t he just magic them into forgetting he was there?’ Harry wondered. ‘Or make them not be able to see his magic?’

Narcissa frowned for a moment as she fussed over the blankets. ‘Well, perhaps he simply wasn’t _that_ powerful.’ She sighed. ‘It looks like you’re going to have company again.’

Draco refused to budge, having wrapped both arms firmly around Harry’s waist shortly after he fell asleep.

Harry patted Draco’s head absently. ‘That’s okay.’ His mind was still whirling. ‘And why were the Muggles so angry in the first place?’

‘Because he wouldn’t share his magic,’ Narcissa said, a slight disapproving edge in her tone.

His frown deepened. ‘But why? Why didn’t he want to help them? He doesn’t sound like he was very nice.’

She nudged him to lie down and tucked him in. ‘Perhaps the Muggles wanted help with evil deeds? Or perhaps it was something he couldn’t help with, but the Muggles wouldn’t take no for an answer. We don’t know the whole story, Harry,’ she said patiently.

‘I guess not,’ he agreed reluctantly, but only because it was clear that she didn’t want to discuss it any further. He was also a little wary of her disapproval, afraid that if he pushed it much further, she might get angry with him. He didn’t want to make her disappointed or angry with him. Obviously, he was meant to root for the wizard and his pot, and not question the story any more than that.

But doubts remained, and Harry couldn’t erase them no matter how hard he tried.

Narcissa’s expression cleared and she tried to smooth his hair one more time. ‘Don’t forget that Severus will be visiting tomorrow,’ she said kindly, ‘so dress in robes.’

‘Yes, Narcissa.’

She kissed him goodnight and put out the lights, but it was a long time before Harry fell asleep. He still had so many questions, but he wasn’t sure who to ask--or even if he _should_ ask. All he could do was hope that the answers would become clearer once he started reading his new books and getting his true education from Lucius and Narcissa.


	4. Loyalties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus plays his cards close to his chest, and Remus has no useful information. Lucius attempts to recruit them to Harry's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severus doesn't do much yet, as he's mostly assessing the situation, but he'll be appearing again, don't worry.
> 
> The prejudices warning is, as always, in full effect. Lucius's thoughts toward certain people are not exactly charitable.
> 
> Feedback of any kind is always welcome. :) Enjoy!

Lucius had many reasons for disliking Severus Snape. Firstly, his hygiene practises, or lack thereof. Secondly, his blood status--‘Half-Blood Prince,’ indeed. He was glad Severus had outgrown using that ridiculous ‘title’ after Hogwarts. Thirdly, his personality. Severus was probably the sourest, grouchiest person Lucius had ever met, and he had a mean streak a mile wide to boot, a mean streak that he rarely attempted to restrain. Fourthly, Lucius disliked how close Severus and Narcissa were. Though Narcissa was Lucius’s age, and therefore not one of Severus’s peers, they clicked on some level that Lucius was helpless to understand. They didn’t like any of the same things, that he could tell, and had only their skill in Occlumency in common, and yet they shared inside jokes and could spend hours talking. Narcissa was _his_ wife, but Lucius always ended up feeling like a third wheel when Severus was around, as he had little to contribute to their discussions and no idea what was so funny when they joked together.

And finally, Lucius disliked Severus because he didn’t really, wholly trust him. He’d never been able to put his finger on what it was, but ever since the Dark Lord’s disappearance, Severus had seemed, to Lucius anyway, to be only ‘half there,’ so to speak. It was as though he was there, saying and doing one thing, but part of him was elsewhere, or thinking something else. Lucius didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

However, there were two major advantages to Severus’s infrequent visits. One, Narcissa and Draco would both be happy and very easy to please for at least a week afterward. Two, Abraxas made himself scarce as soon as he scented the half-blood in the building. Granted, he’d been making himself scarce lately anyway, owing to Harry’s presence, but with _two_ half-bloods on the loose, Lucius was certain that his father would not be setting foot outside of his domain.

There was a tension in the air when Severus arrived, though, and it didn’t take long for him to get down to business after the three adults had finished exchanging pleasantries.

‘Are we alone?’ he demanded curtly, meaning, of course, that Abraxas and Draco were not in hearing distance.

‘Yes, Abraxas knew you were coming and the boys are still getting ready,’ Narcissa said.

Lucius shot her a glance, but it was too late.

Severus’s nostrils flared. ‘The boys,’ he echoed. ‘It’s true, then, I suppose, what they’re saying in the _Prophet_. You’ve got Harry Potter.’

Narcissa had the grace to look embarrassed by her slip, and she let Lucius take that one.

‘What does Dumbledore think?’ Lucius asked coolly.

Severus snorted. ‘He doesn’t think, he _knows_. He apparently had that old useless Squib Arabella Figg watching the neighbourhood, keeping an eye on Harry, and she saw you leave with him. She told him everything before it ever hit the papers.’

Lucius inwardly cursed himself. He should have known there would be something like that, but he’d foolishly assumed wards were the only worry he’d have on Privet Drive. This just proved that he was right, not paranoid--there was no such thing as ‘over-preparing.’

‘What does he plan to do about it?’

Severus cocked his head, considering Lucius. ‘Very little, for the moment. He’s got Weasley, Shacklebolt and Moody doing a bit of poking around, reading the mood at the Ministry, and they’re trying to quietly get Harry’s guardianship changed before anything is set in motion.’

Lucius’s expression was carefully controlled, but Severus had known him a long time.

‘You’ve already made plans of your own, I take it,’ he said neutrally.

Narcissa nodded. ‘He went and got temporary custody of Harry two days ago.’

Severus’s smile was wickedly appreciative, and rather horrifying, since he apparently never brushed his teeth. Lucius suppressed a shudder.

‘Well. I don’t suppose Albus counted on that,’ Severus said with blatant pleasure. ‘That will gum up the works for quite some time.’

‘That’s what I’m counting on,’ Lucius said darkly.

Severus nodded absently. ‘So where is the boy, then? Albus asked me to see if I could “wrangle” an invitation out of you, to check and make sure he’s safe. I’ll need to see him with my own eyes.’

Lucius snorted, unsurprised at this subterfuge. Severus’s ‘double agent’ status was and had always been annoying, mostly because he was so bloody smug about it, as though it meant he was more trusted than everyone else in the Dark Lord’s inner circle.

‘They’ll be down in a minute, I’m sure,’ Narcissa said, amused.

No sooner had she finished speaking than they heard the clatter of feet in the hall and Draco’s excited, loud chatter, and the two boys practically galloped into the room. Or, rather, _Draco_ practically galloped into the room, while Harry just barely kept his feet as the other dragged him along.

‘Uncle Severus!’ Draco cried, and leapt on the man.

Severus softened approximately one nanometer and accepted the hug, patting Draco on the shoulder. ‘Have you been behaving yourself for your mother?’

Draco pulled away with a sheepish smile. ‘Mostly?’

‘Hmm,’ Severus grunted, and turned to Harry Potter.

Lucius stiffened immediately, his hand unconsciously trailing to the handle of his wand. He was well aware of Severus’s unpleasant history with Harry’s father, although he’d never been interested enough to find out the details, and the reason Harry had been recognised in Diagon Alley was because he so strongly resembled his father. It was bound to strike a nerve with Severus.

But the younger wizard didn’t stiffen or show any signs of increased tension. Instead, he was merely studying the fidgeting, blushing boy, in the same curious way one might examine a strange artefact found on the bottom of one’s shoe. His eyes lingered on the scar, naturally, but other than that, he seemed to have little interest in what he saw.

Until Harry finally looked up and met his gaze. To Lucius’s surprise, Severus went completely rigid, paling with shock. He looked between the two of them, trying to discover what about Harry’s sudden eye contact might have caused that reaction, but he saw nothing. Even Narcissa seemed confused, when he turned to her for an explanation.

After several silent moments which were so tense that even Draco kept his mouth shut, Severus finally relaxed--well, as much as he ever did.

‘Mr Potter,’ he said silkily, holding out his hand. ‘Severus Snape.’

Harry hurried forward to shake his hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Snape,’ he said quickly, fumbling over the words.

Severus had thoroughly discomfitted the boy. Lucius bristled and resisted the urge to toss the younger wizard out by the scruff. Did he have no idea how hard it was to keep Harry calm and comfortable? The man really shouldn’t be allowed near children, Lucius thought fiercely. Honestly, Severus’s poor students! It was a wonder that Hogwarts didn’t lose dozens of students to nervous breakdowns every year, simply from having to deal with Severus on a near-daily basis.

Lucius was so worked up that he might have got angry enough to _actually_ toss Severus out, had Severus not responded to Harry with a (for him) mild smile.

‘You may call me Professor Snape,’ he said in a tone that was very nearly cordial (for him). ‘I teach Potions at Hogwarts.’

Harry’s eyes lit up, but he restrained himself. Lucius was probably prouder than he should have been.

‘Yes, Professor,’ he squeaked happily.

‘Uncle Severus, did you bring us anything?’ Draco demanded, tired of waiting for his turn.

‘Not this time,’ Severus said. ‘Next time.’

Draco knew that whining did no good at all with Severus, as he was just as likely to pronounce that he wouldn’t bring anything next time, either, so he turned to his mother instead, bouncing with excess energy.

‘Can Harry and I go out and play until lunch? Please, please, please?’

Narcissa quickly agreed, as Harry was still clearly intimidated by Severus, despite the interesting feature he’d suddenly acquired, and Draco dragged Harry back out of the room again.

‘Stay near the house!’ Lucius shouted after them, and harrumphed when he received a ‘yeah, okay’ in response.

Severus’s eyes glittered strangely as he studied Lucius; he glared back, annoyed. The muffled sound of Draco and Harry laughing drifted in through the closed window as they evidently found something to occupy themselves with.

‘What was that about?’ Narcissa asked softly.

It was Severus’s turn to be discomfitted. ‘You know how I--’

‘It was his eyes, not his resemblance to James Potter,’ Narcissa cut him off impatiently. She didn’t like being lied to. ‘What is it about his eyes? Is there something wrong with him?’

‘Beyond the obvious? You are feeding the brat, aren’t you?’ Severus asked snidely.

‘Harry is _not_ a brat,’ Lucius bit out. ‘Mind your tongue.’

Severus’s considering look reappeared, but Lucius didn’t back down his glare one iota. Harry Potter was many things, but a brat was not one of them. He wasn’t well-versed in pure-blood manners, but he did the best he could, given his upbringing, and Lucius thought that was more than enough. Not to mention it was more than he could say for Severus, who was two decades older than Harry but had somehow avoided learning any manners of any kind in that time.

‘He’s so small and skinny courtesy of those Muggles,’ Narcissa put in, glancing between the two men uneasily. ‘We’ve been feeding him, but it will take time for him to start gaining weight. We’ve scheduled a healer to come on Monday.’

‘Ah,’ said Severus. He considered Lucius for a moment longer before finally sighing, looking away. ‘It _was_ Harry’s eyes,’ he admitted. ‘James had blue eyes. He has his mother’s eyes--Lily’s were green. Brilliant green, like emeralds. It startled me.’

Lucius had not known that detail. By the looks of it, neither had Narcissa. He decided to reward a truth with a truth.

‘We partially invited you here because we thought you might be willing to help us,’ Lucius said grudgingly. ‘We…we want to know what Dumbledore’s up to during the investigation. We want….’

Severus looked smug. ‘You want me to spy for you.’

He grimaced. ‘I suppose you could put it that way….’

‘And what incentive do I have to do this, beyond my friendship for Narcissa?’ he demanded slyly.

‘We were hoping that would be enough,’ Lucius said sharply. ‘But if we must, we will pay you handsomely for your services and your discretion about _our_ actions regarding Harry’s guardianship.’

Severus sat back, rubbing his chin as he considered. Lucius watched him closely, but kept an ear out for Harry and Draco’s laughter and shrieks of delight. A sudden cessation would be cause for alarm.

The self-satisfied smirk faded, his eyes growing distant, and there was something grim about his expression when he came back to himself.

‘I will help you,’ Severus said solemnly, ‘for reasons of my own. I don’t want your money, and let’s leave it at that.’

Lucius was not quite satisfied. ‘But we have your silence?’

Severus inclined his head. ‘I will feed Dumbledore as little information as I can while still keeping him happy. He’ll find out nothing of the temporary custody from me, or any other major moves you make. It will have to be enough that I can update him on Potter’s health and wellbeing.’ He paused, his eyes gleaming. ‘Actually, it will be quite fun to watch the old man scramble for once. He always knows every bloody thing before everyone else….’

Narcissa smiled sweetly. ‘Thank you, Severus.’

Since Severus was now on their side (although Lucius was still wary), he brought him fully up to date on everything that had happened from the moment they’d received Harry’s letter. He demanded to see the letter and read it, but his only question was how Harry had managed to stumble across a book on wizard families in the middle of Muggledom.

‘We don’t know,’ Narcissa said, ‘but it was quite fortunate. I’ve looked at it, since Harry brought it with him, and it’s only three years out of date. It’s hard to say why or how it ended up in a Muggle library.’

Lucius resumed his tale, and Severus’s lips thinned when he recounted how the Dursleys had treated the boy.

‘I can see why he would leave with you so willingly,’ he put in gruffly. ‘Even you would look appealing over that Muggle scum.’

Lucius shot him a nasty look and wondered how someone so filthy could dare to judge anyone else’s ‘appeal.’

‘…And yesterday morning, a werewolf showed up outside my wards,’ he concluded after telling him everything through last night. ‘I’m keeping an eye on it, but it hasn’t shown itself. I’m a little concerned….’

He trailed off, curious and irritated, when he realised that Severus was shaking with silent laughter, one hand over his face.

‘Severus?’ Narcissa prompted, equally confused.

‘Oh, the wolf,’ he chuckled, wiping his eyes. ‘You needn’t worry yourself on that count. Albus asked him to stand watch and rescue Harry if an opportunity arose. It’s only Remus Lupin.’

Lucius made a disgusted sound and immediately relaxed, thoroughly annoyed with himself for getting so worked up. Narcissa joined Severus’s laughter--if you were going to have a werewolf sitting on your lawn, Remus Lupin would be the one you’d want. Dumbledore acted as though he was a secret weapon, some kind of ace up his sleeve, but Lupin was undoubtedly the most harmless werewolf in the world. Lucius would never want to test the theory, but he imagined that even on the full moon, in wolf form, Lupin would gasp and apologise after nicking his victim, crying for forgiveness. He was the meekest, _weakest_ creature Lucius had ever encountered. How he’d been placed in Gryffindor was an unsolved mystery--perhaps the Sorting Hat was getting senile.

The pair of them quit laughing when Lucius abruptly stood and strode toward the door.

‘Where are you going?’ Severus demanded. ‘You’re not going to attack him, are you?’

‘Certainly not,’ Lucius scoffed, and continued on his way.

Lupin was still invisible, but Lucius could sense him, sitting against the wall outside the gate. He kept his wand at the ready, just in case, but was to all appearances extremely casual about opening the gate and strolling outside. He leaned against the wall and raised a brow at the spot where he knew the Disillusioned wolf was sitting.

‘You know, it’s much more comfortable inside, wolf,’ he drawled lazily. ‘You may as well come in and get warm, if you insist on hanging around. I’ll not have you out here skulking like a beggar.’

Lupin appeared, climbing to his feet and looking thoroughly embarrassed. ‘How did you know--’

‘Severus stopped by for a visit,’ Lucius said impatiently, unwilling to reveal his ability to sense other magical beings in his vicinity to someone working for the enemy. ‘He told me who you were. I knew there was _something_ out here, and I was about two hours from blasting you out of existence.’

Lupin approached sheepishly, holding out his hands to show that he hadn’t drawn his wand. ‘Oh. I just--I was just--’

‘Save it, wolf,’ Lucius interrupted again. ‘Are you coming in or are you leaving?’

Lupin’s eyes flashed and he straightened, and for a moment, Lucius thought he saw a spark of _beast_ about him. His hand clenched his wand a little tighter.

‘You were sincere about inviting me in?’ the wolf asked lowly, seriously.

‘Why not?’ Lucius said with studied nonchalance. ‘I’m taking a chance that you don’t have fleas, but I’d rather take you in and feed you than have you loitering outside.’

Lupin eyed him, making him feel uncomfortably _meaty_. Perhaps he’d underestimated Lupin?

‘That would be very kind,’ the wolf said meekly, dropping his eyes.

Never mind.

‘Besides,’ Lucius added as he escorted the wolf through the gate, ‘I’d like to take the opportunity to interrogate you.’

Lupin swallowed and smiled nervously, trotting after Lucius like an obedient dog.

Unfortunately, Lupin knew even less than Severus did, although he freely admitted being sent to watch them by Dumbledore.

‘I suppose I’m meant to be rescuing Harry from your gardens right now,’ he said after a moment of reflection. ‘Although he doesn’t sound like he’s being tortured.’

Lucius waved Lupin over to the window. ‘Hardly. See for yourself.’

Lupin obeyed, and his expression immediately melted into a kind of bittersweet joy as he watched Harry and Draco romp around the terrace, giggling their heads off. None of the adults had any idea what game they thought they were playing, but as long as both of them remained so happy and no one got hurt, they felt no impulse to interfere.

‘He’s so small,’ Lupin commented softly, but Lucius still heard, and with a sigh, he realised he was probably going to have to tell the whole story all over again.

Severus realised it, too, and smirked at Lucius with malicious glee.

‘Why did he come with you?’ Lupin asked after a moment, louder so they knew he was talking to them this time. ‘He doesn’t even know you, so why would he go with you? Dumbledore said he went with you willingly.’

Severus grinned wickedly, and Lucius took a deep breath and began telling the story all over again, from the beginning. Lupin, too, demanded to see the letter, although he merely set it aside with a frown when he was finished and gestured for Lucius to continue, and he ground his jaw with visible rage when Lucius detailed what he’d witnessed at the Dursleys and what Harry had told them after his rescue.

‘We’ve ordered him new clothes, and he has an appointment with a healer on Monday,’ Narcissa soothed at the end of the story.

There was no difference in Lupin’s angry visage; he only softened when Harry let out a particularly loud squeal of delight.

‘He seems…happy,’ the wolf said quietly after a few moments of listening to the boys’ rowdy play.

‘Why shouldn’t he be?’ Severus snapped. ‘He’s got food and clothes and a boy his age to play with who _doesn’t_ seem interested in pummeling him. What’s not to like?’

Lupin didn’t reply, lost in thought.

‘What I want to know is why you never bothered to check up on the boy,’ Lucius said coldly. ‘If I recall correctly, you and James Potter and Sirius Black and that _Pettigrew_ boy were all thick as thieves. You had no interest in looking into the welfare of your friend’s orphaned child?’

Lupin’s amber eyes flicked to his. ‘Of course I did,’ he said, still quiet and calm. ‘I loved both of his parents--James was the best friend I’ve ever had, and Lily was like a sister to me. I would have taken him in myself, if werewolves were permitted to adopt.’

Lucius sneered. ‘Then what stopped you? You’ve had six years to indulge this _great, overwhelming_ desire to go to him, and yet you’ve betrayed no sign of even knowing where the boy was residing.’

Lupin and Severus never got along--Severus hated Lupin with a fiery passion--so it was all the more startling when they spoke in unison, in the same rueful tone.

‘Dumbledore.’

Narcissa blinked and shook her head, shaking off the echo effect. Lucius shared the sentiment.

‘Dumbledore didn’t tell anyone Harry Potter’s exact location until after you took him from the Dursleys,’ Severus explained. ‘He told us he was in a Muggle area, but nothing else. Not even who was caring for him, or I might have had a clue that his circumstances were less than ideal, since I have met Petunia on more than one occasion.’

Lupin nodded his agreement. ‘And I often expressed my desire to see Harry, but he always convinced me not to. He told me that since I was known to be on his side, and since a wizard should have no reason to be where Harry was, I’d only be risking being followed and putting Harry in danger. He assured me that Harry was happy and healthy, so, since there didn’t seem to be anything I could do for him, I let it go. I most certainly didn’t want to put him in danger.’ His expression darkened. ‘If I’d known how far from “happy and healthy” he truly was, I would have found a way to locate him anyway.’

This was promising--it looked as though Lucius might have a chance of converting one of Dumbledore’s own lackeys to his side, if he played his cards right. He could overlook the fact that Lupin was a werewolf for Harry’s sake--if he could tolerate Greyback’s proximity for the Dark Lord, then he could tolerate Lupin’s for Harry. At least Lupin had heard of bathing. Lupin’s status might serve as further protection for Harry. Any Death Eaters who’d got wind of Harry’s probable location through the _Daily Prophet_ would think twice about crossing Lucius, but a werewolf on the doorstep certainly couldn’t hurt, either. Add to that Lupin’s known allegiance to Dumbledore, and his presence would probably ward off any gawkers or do-gooders attempting to ‘rescue’ the boy.

Lucius put on his most charming smile. ‘I believe it’s time for lunch, and I did promise to feed you, didn’t I, Lupin? Why don’t you call the boys in, Narcissa, while I show our guests to the dining room.’

Lupin’s eyes widened. ‘I get to see him?’

‘Of course,’ Lucius said innocently. ‘Since you’re here, why shouldn’t you see him? I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to meet one of his father’s dearest friends.’

Lupin was positively giddy--Lucius had just offered him a boon that Dumbledore never had. Here, he could sit and talk to his best friend’s son. That ought to be enticing enough, coupled with Dumbledore’s grievous mismanagement of the boy, to keep Lupin firmly on their side. If the wolf was going to be prowling outside their wards anyway, he might as well be of use to them.

.

\--------------------

.

Harry wasn’t very sorry when Narcissa came and interrupted their game to bring them in for lunch. Draco had declared the game was ‘Pox,’ where Harry had pox, and he had to chase Draco, who had to try to keep away from him, or else the pox transferred to him. It was a lot like Tag, and it wasn’t that fun to play with only two people. Plus, Draco was taller than him, so even though Harry had a lot of practise sprinting for his safety, he’d only managed to catch Draco once, and it was harder to stay away from Draco than from Dudley. In short, he was getting worn out and ready for a breather.

Sweaty and disheveled, he gratefully followed her back inside, nearly oblivious to Draco’s whining that he wasn’t done having fun yet. When he grabbed her hand, Narcissa stopped and smiled at him.

‘Here,’ she said gently. ‘We have another guest. Let me straighten you up a bit.’

She fussed over Harry, who blushed happily under the attention, and Draco perked up curiously.

‘ _Another_ guest, Mother? Uncle Severus didn’t leave, did he? Who is it?’

‘No, Severus is still here,’ she said patiently. ‘Our guest is Remus Lupin.’

Draco blinked. ‘Who?’

Narcissa merely smiled. ‘You’ll meet him in a moment.’

Lucius was seated at the head of the table again, looking distinctly amused about something, and Professor Snape was sitting one seat away on his left, presumably leaving a space for Narcissa. Across from Snape was a thin, ragged-looking man with sandy hair and a sad sort of face--he was smiling at them and he still somehow looked sad. Harry suddenly felt quite sorry for him without really knowing why. Perhaps it was the battered state of his tweed robes, or his pallor and his scars.

‘Did you enjoy yourselves, boys?’ Lucius asked, still appearing amused as he glanced between their guests.

‘Oh, yes!’ Draco cried enthusiastically, embarking on a detailed accounting of their game as he jumped into the seat on Snape’s other side.

Harry just quietly climbed into the seat beside the man’s, where a place had been set for him, and looked up into a pair of still amber eyes. A shiver travelled down his spine, and the man who must have been Remus Lupin looked away for a moment. When he looked at Harry again, his gaze was less intense.

‘Sorry,’ he said mildly. ‘I have just been waiting a very long time to meet you again.’

Harry blinked, straightening. ‘Again?’

‘Oh, yes--I knew you when you were just a baby,’ said Remus Lupin, his eyes unfocusing for a moment and his voice far away in some distant, bittersweet memory. ‘I held you, I helped your mother change you, helped your father look after you when she went out to meet some friends--’

‘You knew my parents?’ Harry gasped, which made Draco shut up and start paying attention.

Two people in one day?! He couldn’t believe his good fortune. He had hoped, but had never really thought he would ever find any friends of his parents. It was the closest he would ever come to meeting them.

It was too good to be true, and the thought occurred to Harry--had Lucius invited Remus and Severus here on purpose, knowing Harry wished to know more of his parents? His heart swelled with love at the mere thought.

Remus nodded. ‘Your father was my best friend, and your mother was very dear to me. We went to school together.’

Harry bounced excitedly. ‘And now you’ve found me!’ Then a terrible thought occurred to him and he looked at his parents’ friend fearfully. ‘You’re not going to take me away, are you?’

Remus’s expression was unreadable. ‘Do you _want_ me to take you away, Harry?’

‘No, no!’ Harry cried, distressed. ‘I want to stay with my cousins!’

He smiled slightly again. ‘You like it here?’

‘Oh, yes, I love it here,’ Harry said quickly. ‘They gave me my own room, and they like me!’

His smile grew and he seemed to relax. ‘I like you, too, Harry. If you’re happy here, then I wouldn’t dream of taking you away.’

‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ Harry cried, and flung his arms around the man’s neck without much thought.

Remus chuckled, hugging Harry and patting his back. ‘You don’t need to thank me. I only want you to be safe and happy.’

Harry pulled back with an eager expression. ‘Then will you tell me about my parents? That would make me happy!’

Draco looked proud of his amateur cunning, Professor Snape looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, and Narcissa was smiling rather tearfully, apparently moved by seeing Harry so excited and animated. Lucius still looked amused, but he attempted to appear stern for a moment.

‘Only if you sit in your chair like a gentleman,’ he cut in before Remus could answer.

Harry sheepishly slid off of Remus’s lap and back into his own chair. ‘Yes, Cousin Lucius. I’m sorry.’

He sniffed approvingly, and Harry tried to behave more sedately as lunch was served. After a few questions from Harry, Remus--or rather, ‘Uncle Remus,’ as he said Harry could call him, or ‘Moony,’ for some reason, which made Professor Snape snort and Lucius roll his eyes--began telling stories about Harry’s parents. Harry and the Malfoys listened attentively, and even Snape looked grudgingly interested at some points.

‘And Lily was always very interested in History of Magic--’

‘No, she wasn’t,’ Snape broke in with a snort, surprising everyone. ‘She pretended to be because you lot weren’t. It was a handy excuse when she needed a break from your little group.’

Remus grinned. ‘Ah. I didn’t know.’ He nudged Harry. ‘Lily and Severus were close friends. They knew each other before Hogwarts.’

Harry goggled at Snape. ‘Really?! How did you know her, Professor? Did you go to school together?’

Snape glared at Remus, but his tone was fairly even. ‘We grew up in the same area. I was educated at home, but I had seen her in the park many times. I got brave and approached her once, and we became friends thereafter.’

Harry looked at Snape worshipfully, and the sallow man’s skin turned a very odd shade of pink after a moment. Narcissa grinned at him wickedly.

‘It wasn’t very long before Hogwarts,’ Snape growled. ‘Only a year or so.’

‘All the same,’ Remus said, ‘she confided in him more than she did us.’

‘Only because the lot of you were terrible at keeping your mouths closed for longer than two minutes at a stretch.’

Harry and Draco’s heads turned back and forth like it was a tennis match as Snape and Remus vollied stories back and forth, and slowly, Harry began to get a picture of his parents and their friends as schoolmates. He had no idea what ‘Gryffindor’ and ‘Slytherin’ meant, and he’d made a mental note to ask one of the Malfoys after their guests had gone, but he had realised that somehow, Remus, James and two of their friends had become rivals with Snape, who was sort of a loner type--save for his friendship with Lily, and a couple boys he studied with. Harry’s mother had been fierce and loyal, standing by both Remus and Snape when James and the other two got a little too pushy, keeping them from crossing the line when Remus was too weak to stand up for himself. At least, that’s how Professor Snape put it--he never said why _he_ would have needed Lily’s aid to fend off the other boys.

The other two friends were a boy named Sirius and a boy named Peter. Narcissa had bristled the first time Sirius’s name came up, which Harry found most curious, until he realised that everyone else said Sirius’s name with barely-veiled anger and disgust as well--particularly Remus, who got a downright scary look in his eye when he lingered over memories of him too long. Peter produced sad, pitying looks from everyone except Lucius and Snape, both of whom seemed annoyed by the mere mention of him. Lucius even rolled his eyes again, and Harry got the idea that Peter, while apparently a good friend and helpmeet, wasn’t much of a wizard. He was also spoken of nearly exclusively in the past tense, as was Sirius, so Harry could only assume that they were both dead, too.

‘But of course, your father was the clever one who came up with most of our schemes,’ Remus said at the end of a tale about Sirius’s successful plan to get the four of them into the kitchens. ‘And your mother was the clever one who caught us.’

Even Snape grinned at that--a rather scary sight--but Lucius was frowning.

‘I’d rather if you didn’t fill the boys’ heads with _too_ much of your mischief,’ he said, raising a brow.

‘Oh, Lucius, you know they’ll get into quite enough mischief on their own,’ Professor Snape said in a mockingly sweet sort of voice.

Remus glanced at Harry worriedly. ‘You won’t be trying any of these things on your own, _will_ you, Harry? You know we were very foolish, and very lucky to have--’

Harry was shaking his head, wide-eyed, and Lucius spoke again.

‘ _Harry_ wasn’t the one I was worried about.’

Draco slunk down in his seat guiltily--he’d been grinning or looking very, very thoughtful throughout most of the stories. Narcissa and Lucius both shot him quelling looks and he slid down a little farther.

‘I wasn’t going to try any of the _really_ stupid ones,’ he grumbled.

Remus and Snape both looked amused, but Harry was just as worried as Draco’s parents. As whiny and annoying as he could be sometimes, Draco was still Harry’s cousin, and a great deal kinder to him than Dudley had ever been. Pox involved tapping each other, whereas Harry Hunting involved Harry getting pummeled. Even the Quidditch overload was simply Draco trying to share something he loved with Harry, and he’d been trying not to get too irritated about it. However, he _had_ noted Draco’s tendency for using whatever tools and tricks he had at hand to get whatever he wanted, and Harry wouldn’t put it past him to try any of the schemes Remus had related in order to get something that Lucius had told him he couldn’t have. He didn’t want his cousin to be hurt trying, and Harry vowed to himself that he’d keep an ear out for any movement in the hallway tonight--Draco would have to go past Harry’s rooms to get back into the main part of the house.

Lunch wrapped up and Professor Snape said he needed to talk to Lucius privately some more. Remus, however, said he’d said and heard all he needed to.

‘Can we show him the gardens?’ Draco asked eagerly.

‘ _You_ are coming with me,’ Narcissa said sternly. ‘I think we need to have a little talk--and I’m sure Harry would like to spend some time with Remus alone.’

Lucius shot her an alarmed glance at that, and after Harry and Remus had gone out onto the terrace, Harry looked back and saw Lucius watching them from the window.

‘He’s very protective of you,’ Remus said, but Harry couldn’t quite read his tone or expression--he didn’t seem pleased about it.

‘He’s my cousin and he likes me,’ Harry said cheerfully. ‘He was very upset about how the Dursleys treated me.’

Remus scowled. ‘As am I. If I had known, I would have tried harder to find out where you were.’

Harry smiled; he didn’t think Remus could have found him on his own now, either, and he was absolutely certain that Lucius had found Remus and brought him here.

‘It’s okay. I’m here now.’

That made Remus smile. ‘Yes, you are. I’ve spent all of lunch talking about the old days--tell me about you. What have you been up to since you arrived?’

Harry excitedly recounted all that he had learnt and everything he’d seen since he arrived, Remus listening attentively. He, Lucius and Narcissa were the only adults who made it seem like what Harry had to say was important, and Harry gradually warmed up to his honorary uncle.

‘You seem very fond of them,’ Remus commented when he’d finished.

He blushed, biting his lip. ‘I love them,’ he admitted shyly. ‘They’re so nice to me, and they listen to me and take care of me. Lucius didn’t let anybody get me when we went to Diagon Alley, and Narcissa always helps me look presentable and not embarrass myself. And they both hug me when I get upset. Narcissa says I can have a hug whenever I want.’

Remus very nearly tripped, his brows shooting upward. ‘Lucius Malfoy gave you a hug?’ he repeated, clearly shocked.

Harry tilted his head. ‘Well, yes. He was telling me what really happened to my parents--that the Dark Lord man killed them, not a car accident--and I got very upset, so he hugged me and let me sit in his lap until I felt a little better.’

Remus didn’t respond to that, but when he glanced back at the window, his expression was very thoughtful.

.

\------------------

.

‘I have no idea, Albus,’ Severus said calmly. ‘They wouldn’t tell me anything of strategy. I did see that the boy appears to be happy and in good health.’

Remus was strangely quiet, appearing to be deep in thought, but Dumbledore tried to ignore it. Remus often went through pensive stages, as part of his struggle with his condition. This was probably just one of those occasions, as he had loyally remained outside of the Malfoys’ domain until summoned for this meeting.

‘Happy?’ Dumbledore echoed doubtfully, eyeing Severus over his spectacles.

Severus sneered. ‘He spent most of the time playing with Draco, and the two of them laughed with annoying frequency and volume. I can only conclude that the boy was happy.’

Dumbledore was extremely puzzled by this. The likelihood of the Malfoys treating Harry Potter any better than the Dursleys was very remote. He could only assume that it was an act for Severus’s benefit--Lucius was nothing if not cautious. Over time, surely he would open up to Severus about his real plans.

‘Keep trying,’ he commanded tersely. ‘Remus? Any news?’

Remus started, and then shook off his thoughts with a grimace. ‘Nothing, Albus. The Malfoys’ wards are nearly as tight as Hogwarts’, and when they come and go, Lucius or Narcissa Apparates straight through the wards, rather than walking outside of them first.’

Dumbledore had expected as much. ‘Well, keep up the good work. Let me know if you require a relief.’

Remus smiled faintly. ‘I will.’

The news Kingsley, Alastor and Arthur brought was much the same--none.

‘That department is all about _confidentiality_ ,’ Alastor groused with open contempt. ‘It’s worse than trying to get into Azkaban without clearance.’

‘The good news is that the _Prophet_ hasn’t had any better luck,’ Arthur put in, his usual optimistic self. ‘They’re unlikely to print anything more about the sighting until they can find something out from that office.’

‘Or until there’s another Harry Potter sighting,’ Kingsley said dolefully.

Dumbledore frowned, considering. In the end, he could only advise them all to keep at it. He felt singularly useless, but there was nothing he could do at the moment, other than continue to try and discover Lucius’s purpose in kidnapping the Boy Who Lived. Perhaps he’d discovered a means of resurrecting Voldemort? There were many types of blood magic, and undoubtedly he’d been searching for a way to save his master since that night. Dumbledore began compiling a mental list of all of the possible spells Lucius might use, but he wasn’t going to abandon thinking of other possibilities, either--with Lucius, one never knew. There were often plots within plots, and counterplots to ensure at least a partial victory, regardless of the outcome.


	5. A Matter of Attitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns about the Hogwarts House system; Lucius and Dumbledore have their first tussle over Harry's guardianship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do take note of the prejudices warning, as always. In this chapter, in particular, Harry picks up on it. Bad attitudes toward half-bloods and Muggle-borns abound!
> 
> Feedback of any kind is more than welcome. Enjoy! :)

‘Cousin Lucius?’

‘Yes, Harry?’

‘What’s a Gryffindor?’

‘A bonehead.’

Harry giggled, and Lucius looked at the boy with an indulgent eye. It was Tuesday, and they were having their first ‘magical lore’ lesson--or at least they were supposed to be. Draco had claimed he had to go to the bathroom and had disappeared twenty minutes ago. Lucius was currently gathering enough annoyance to be bothered with seeking out his troublesome son. In the meantime, he’d been very interested to note that Harry waited patiently and attentively, using the time to organise his note-taking materials and make certain that his quills and pencils were sharp enough for use. Only in the last two minutes had he run out of things to do and began screwing up the courage to ask Lucius a question.

His appointment with the healer had gone well, although in the hour before the healer’s arrival, Narcissa had discovered the source of Harry’s nerves over the appointment--one more reason to hate the Dursleys, as though they needed another. The healer had written up the list of previous injuries and reported the various signs of neglect before prescribing several nutrient potions (which Harry took reluctantly but obediently each morning) and new glasses for Harry. The new glasses looked very nice, with small round silver frames that actually fit him properly, and Harry had immediately lost his habit of squinting at everyone and everything.

‘Gryffindor is one of the Hogwarts Houses,’ Lucius said after a moment. ‘There are four--Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Your parents and Remus were in Gryffindor, and Severus, Narcissa and I were in Slytherin.’

Draco came strolling in at that moment, his hands in his pockets. ‘Yes--Slytherin is the _best_ , Harry!’

Lucius scowled at him. ‘It takes twenty-five minutes to go to the bathroom, Draco?’

He had the grace to look sheepish. ‘I got a little side-tracked….’

He surreptitiously showed Harry the sweets he’d jammed in his pockets, but not well enough to evade Lucius’s notice. He let it pass, partly because he was ready to get on with things, and partly because Harry gave Draco such a disappointed look that Draco seemed chastised enough.

‘We could have gone for them after,’ Harry whispered, and Lucius pretended not to hear that, either.

‘Boys, attend,’ he commanded instead, and even Draco straightened in his seat. Granted, that was unlikely to last, but he’d take the good behaviour and attentiveness while it lasted. ‘Today, we’re going to learn the history of the Hand of Glory.’

Both boys looked excited by the mere name of the thing, but as its history mostly involved wizards trying to figure out how to use it, failing, and selling it off, it wasn’t long before Draco was yawning, looking out the window, and doodling a stick-figure Quidditch match instead of taking notes. Harry looked equally bored, his gaze drifting every now and then to Lucius’s bookshelves and file cupboards, but before Lucius could get annoyed enough to call both of them to attention again, Harry would frown, shake his head, and force his own attention back to Lucius’s lecture with a determined expression.

Lucius found himself impressed with the boy yet again.

‘…And today it’s in the possession of Aurelius Hornswoggle, though for how much longer is anyone’s guess,’ Lucius concluded, a little bored himself--not that he’d admit it.

Draco perked up, but it was clearly a diversion to try to distract Lucius from seeing his move to hide his ‘notes.’

‘Is he thinking of selling it?’

‘Not to my knowledge,’ Lucius drawled. ‘He’s two hundred and three, he’s bound to pack it in one of these days. Your notes, please.’

Draco blanched, and even Harry looked a little nervous, but they both handed theirs over.

Lucius didn’t have to pretend to be annoyed after looking over Draco’s. ‘If you were going to draw a mock Quidditch match rather than pay attention, the very least you could have done is draw it _well_. The gaps between the hoops are hardly regulation,’ he said acidly.

Draco slid down in his seat, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor. ‘Sorry, Father,’ he mumbled.

‘As it’s not the first time, I somehow doubt that. I am aware that the history of various magical artefacts is long and not usually very fascinating, but it is an important part of your education. Your mother’s teachings in history are broader, so it is occasionally necessary for us to single out particular objects.’ He sighed, as this lecture seemed to have no effect. ‘Run along.’

Draco bolted for the door, barely remembering his supplies on the way.

Harry gulped, wide-eyed, but he needn’t have worried. There were gaps in his notes where his attention had wandered, but they tended to be spots that Lucius deemed more trivial, and they were much more complete than Draco’s. Most importantly, there were no squiggles or doodles, only blots from his inexperience with quills. He’d switched to a pencil part of the way through, and his notes were much neater thereafter.

Lucius smiled, handing them back. ‘Very good, Harry. Do keep practising with your quill.’

He beamed with surprised delight. ‘Yes, sir! I will, I promise!’

‘You run along, too--I have work to do.’

Harry gathered his supplies and skipped out giddily, but not before thanking Lucius--for the lesson or the permission to leave was unclear. He shook his head and went back to his desk. If he could figure out a way to make Draco try half as hard as Harry just had, his son would easily wipe the floor with the rest of the students at Hogwarts, academically at least. It was getting him to try that was the problem. Perhaps if learning could somehow be combined with Quidditch--but since that was impractical at best, Lucius was left at a loss.

His only hope was that Harry would influence Draco--and _not_ the other way around.

.

\---------------------

.

After another unnerving dinner with Abraxas (although this one hadn’t ended with Lucius nearly cracking all the glass), Harry and Draco went upstairs to play. Well, that was what they’d _said_ they were going to do, but Draco seemed more interested in proving himself to be a living Quidditch encyclopaedia. Unfortunately, none of Harry’s questions had anything to do with Quidditch and the stream didn’t seem like it would stop anytime soon, so eventually, reluctantly, he took the risk of interrupting.

‘Draco?’

Draco stopped mid-word, blinked, closed his mouth, opened it again, and eventually said, ‘Yes?’

‘Will you tell me more about the Hogwarts Houses? Why is Slytherin the best?’

He shrugged. ‘They just are; what more do you need to know?’

Harry frowned. ‘Well, lots of stuff….’

Draco sighed, settling on the floor next to Harry. ‘Look, there are four Houses, okay? Ravenclaw is where all the smart kids go--that is, the smart kids who don’t care about doing anything but reading, reading, and more reading, I mean. That’s all they want to do, which is really boring. They also like pretending they’re cleverer than anyone else by doing stupid riddles and puns that no one else likes. However, it’s acceptable to marry one if there’s no one in Slytherin you like who isn’t already taken,’ he added with a haughty sniff. ‘It’s better than marrying a Hufflepuff, anyway.’

Harry’s frown deepened. ‘Okay….’

‘Speaking of Hufflepuff, they’re the _most_ boring ones. They’re supposed to be hard-working and loyal, but really they just gossip and don’t do as well as anyone else in their classes, because that’s where most of the stupid kids go. Not _all_ of them, of course--the stupid kids who like to risk their lives go to Gryffindor.’

‘My parents were in Gryffindor, they weren’t stupid!’ Harry protested angrily. ‘Remus said they were really good in school--they were Head Boy and Head Girl!’

Which, Harry felt, just put _more_ pressure on him to try and do well. He didn’t want to embarrass Lucius and Narcissa by doing poorly, and he didn’t want to shame his parents’ memories by doing poorly, either. He was really ashamed of himself for not being able to pay better attention during his lessons today--his only consolation was that both Lucius and Narcissa had seemed pleased with him. Still, he was determined to try harder to focus and not get distracted.

Draco reddened, biting his lip. ‘Er--I didn’t mean _all_ of them were stupid,’ he said quickly. ‘Just most of them. They get some smart ones. Gryffindor is supposed to be for the kids who are the bravest, but Father says that sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between bravery and stupidity, so maybe mostly stupid kids get put in accidentally, but your parents were _actually_ brave, so they got put where they belonged?’

Harry accepted that answer, his hackles lowering. A little.

He blew out a relieved breath and added more animatedly, ‘Besides, if they put _all_ of the stupid kids in Hufflepuff, Gryffindor would be almost empty except for the really brave, smart ones like your parents, and Hufflepuff would be so crowded they’d have to build three new dorms!’

Harry shook his head. ‘And what about Slytherin?’

That made Draco puff out his chest. ‘Why, Slytherin is for the exceptional kids, of course! Only the kids who are the _most_ cunning and the _most_ ambitious get to go there. Slytherins are the brains of the world, and they all stick together. Of course, it’s harder to get in if you’re a half-blood, and nearly impossible if you’re a Muggle-born, but that just proves that pure-bloods really are better, naturally.’

He didn’t understand most of that--Draco’s logic made little sense to him, and the only way he could see to sorting it out was to ask more questions. He remembered Lucius’s admonition to be patient, but it was so hard, and he had a font of knowledge just waiting to be tapped right here with him.

‘But…how do they decide whether you’re brave enough for Gryffindor or smart enough for Ravenclaw or good enough for Slytherin?’ he asked earnestly. ‘Do we have to take a test when we get there?’

Draco giggled. ‘No, no, of course not! That would take forever. No, they just stick the Sorting Hat on your head, and it tells you which House you’re meant to go in.’

Harry’s nose scrunched. ‘A… _hat_?’

‘Well, it’s a _magical_ hat, of course. It can read your mind and tell whether you’re a really smart, boring kid who only likes books, or whether you’re a smart, motivated kid who’s going places,’ Draco said snobbishly.

Harry bit his tongue on the desire to tell Draco that he wasn’t very motivated at all (save for Quidditch), and if he wasn’t careful, the hat would decide he wasn’t good enough to be in Slytherin like his parents had been. Besides, from the sounds of it, Harry himself wasn’t going to be good enough for _Ravenclaw_ , let alone Slytherin. He’d probably end up in Hufflepuff--if they didn’t just decide to send him home for not being smart or brave or ambitious or _anything_ enough.

‘What’s a half-blood?’

Draco started at the subject change. ‘A half-blood? Oh--a half-blood is a person who has Muggle in them. Like you! Your mum was a Muggle-born, so you’re a half-blood wizard, see?’

Harry frowned. ‘But you said that half-bloods couldn’t get into Slytherin--’

‘No, I said they have a harder time getting in, not that they couldn’t,’ Draco corrected hurriedly, but he still looked guilty.

Lucius had said one of the disadvantages Tom Riddle had grown up with was being a half-blood. Clearly, being a half-blood was a bad thing. Harry found himself unexpectedly rather heartbroken. He really never could be as good as the Malfoys, could he?

‘It’s okay, Harry,’ Draco said bracingly, nudging Harry’s shoulder. ‘You’re not like _some_ half-bloods. Some of them don’t even have a Muggle- _born_ for a parent--just a regular Muggle! Can you imagine? And like you said, your mum was really smart, so she must have been a good witch, even if she came from Muggles. Plus, your dad was from a really respected pure-blood family, so it’s not like you’re one of _those_ half-bloods. You know? And since everyone will know you’re cousins with us, you shouldn’t be too bad off.’

Harry didn’t want to talk about this anymore--at least not about his own parents. ‘Are Professor Snape and Remus pure-bloods, too?’

Draco laughed. ‘No! They’re half-bloods. I’ll teach you all of the pure-blood families--your book has them in it, and I’ll point out the good ones. It’s important to know that kind of thing for when we’re old enough to marry,’ he added importantly.

Harry just frowned. Girls were icky, in his view, and anyway, what good pure-blood family would want to marry a half-blood into the family?

.

\-----------------------------

.

‘This situation is most irregular,’ said the Administrator. ‘Most irregular indeed.’

The Administrator was in charge of the Child Welfare Office, a division of the Family & Agriculture Office. Her purview was mostly the custody of magical orphans, which meant that her office was rather small, and she had only one assistant and two ‘field agents.’ She was a petite, fussy witch with spiky grey hair and butterfly glasses with little diamantés on them. She was a half-blood and dressed in stodgy, frumpy robes in a ridiculous shade of purple. Lucius had hated her on sight--so, naturally, he had pasted on his most supercilious smile and paid her oily compliments on her organisational and management skills that left him feeling like he ought to wash out his mouth with lye soap when he got home. By the end of his little greeting, she was blushing and tittering like a schoolgirl. He inwardly rolled his eyes and settled gracefully in one of the chairs before her desk, noting with equal parts satisfaction and disgust when her eyes followed his hips.

Between his ability to wrap her around his finger and the fact that he was early, while Dumbledore barely managed to arrive on time, the Administrator was leaning a little more toward Lucius than she was Dumbledore. She was still clearly in awe of the old wizard, though, so it wasn’t exactly a victory--still, he’d take what he could get, and continue to reel her in at every opportunity. She didn’t have the final say, but her word carried more weight than either of theirs in this particular situation.

They had just finished reviewing Harry’s file--there were no visits from the field agents to confirm his health and happiness, no official documentation on his custody status, at least none until recently, when Lucius had filed for temporary custody. Dumbledore had actually reacted at that news, shooting Lucius a sharp, narrow glance that sent a shiver down his spine and chilled his blood. He had responded with a cool smile, refusing to show how ruffled he was. Officially, Harry was still Sirius Black’s ward, and it was apparent to all that Harry had fallen through the cracks in the system--purposely, no doubt. Lucius believed wholeheartedly that Dumbledore had simply _nudged_ the file out of the Ministry’s priorities, and he thought that Dumbledore’s grim countenance only confirmed his view.

‘Indeed, it is, Madam Administrator,’ Dumbledore agreed calmly. ‘It is most unfortunate that young Harry was so easily lost in the system. However, do you really think that the Malfoys are suitable even as _temporary_ guardians?’

He shot Lucius another meaningful glance at the word ‘temporary’--don’t get too comfortable. Lucius received the warning loud and clear, but had no intention of heeding it, not this time.

He was going to win against Dumbledore, just this once.

The Administrator frowned, fiddling with the dangly beads of her eyeglass retainer. ‘I don’t see why not. On a temporary basis, we don’t do a thorough investigation, naturally, but they meet the standards required for temporary guardianship easily.’

‘And what might those be?’

‘There are two parents and they are married, they own their own home, and they have an income.’

Lucius’s brows rose and he smirked, amused.

Dumbledore was… _not_ so amused. ‘And that is _all_ that is required for temporary guardianship?’

‘Yes,’ said the Administrator flatly, clearly put out by the suggestion that the standards weren’t rigorous enough. ‘The standards for permanent guardianship are _much_ more involved, but since a temporary guardianship is not intended to last more than a year, that is all that we require. The Malfoys have much to recommend them, Headmaster. In addition to having an income, they are quite wealthy, and they have a son Harry’s age for socialisation.’

Dumbledore looked like he was about to point out all of the things that recommended _against_ the Malfoys, so Lucius smoothly cut him off.

‘Since you oppose our guardianship so strongly, Headmaster, I assume you’ve come with an alternative suggestion?’

He harrumphed, tugging at the end of his beard. ‘As a matter of fact, yes. The Weasleys--’

Lucius choked, caught between an incredulous laugh and a disgusted snort. ‘The _Weasleys_?!’

Dumbledore very nearly glared at him. ‘They, too, are a two-parent family, married, and they own their own home. Arthur has an income--’

Lucius did sputter out a laugh then, unable to repress it, and then Dumbledore really _did_ glare at him, killing the laugh rather quickly.

‘ _As I was saying_ , Arthur has an income and a respectable position here at the Ministry,’ he finished, nearly growling by the end.

The Administrator frowned. ‘Yes, he has an income, but Mr Weasley is barely able to afford the children he has. We have had to send out warnings on two separate occasions when his children were seen to be going out in public in ill-fitting garments or clothing in desperate need of repair. Additionally, the fact that the Weasleys have _seven_ children is cause for concern--will Harry receive the care and attention he needs in such a crowded home? While it is important that he receive socialisation with other children, it is equally important that he receive an adult’s undivided attention when he needs it. I’m not convinced that would be possible in the Weasley household. No, I’m sorry, Headmaster, but that alternative is simply unacceptable. You will need to come up with someone else, if you still object to the Malfoys’ custody. In the meantime, the order stands.’

Dumbledore scowled deeply, rattling both of them, although Lucius was careful not to show it. ‘And why not return him to his former Muggle guardians? It is simply a matter of filing the correct paperwork, is it not?’

‘Actually, until our investigation is completed, it is impossible for Harry to return to the Dursleys,’ the Administrator said, her voice wavering. ‘Mr Malfoy has accused them of neglect, and until we have determined if that was the case, he is not permitted to reside with them or even visit them. If our investigation finds that the allegations are false, then it is a possibility.’

Lucius took that as his cue and produced a copy of the healer’s findings from his pocket. ‘I believe these will help your investigation, Madam Administrator,’ he said silkily. ‘Harry was seen to by a healer on Monday, and she found indications of long-term neglect. It’s all there.’

The Administrator brightened, accepting the packet eagerly. ‘Oh, yes, this will speed our investigation considerably! Thank you, Mr Malfoy.’

He inclined his head and allowed Dumbledore to see the edge of the smirk he was trying to suppress. Dumbledore’s beard twitched and he looked severely put out. Lucius managed to be a little terrified and triumphant at the same time, and showed neither emotion until they were in the hallway--then he allowed Dumbledore to see how smugly victorious he felt.

‘Temporary, Lucius,’ Dumbledore said mildly.

‘Oh, indeed, Dumbledore, I have hardly won the war--but for today, I have won the battle. Good day to you.’

He marched off with his head held high, betraying none of his nervousness at the feeling of Dumbledore’s stare following him until he turned the corner.

.

\--------------------

.

Arthur was rather shell-shocked and downhearted when he went home that evening. Dumbledore had called him into his office--just him, not any other Order members--and had given him a detailed summary of what had happened at his meeting with Lucius and Mrs Lloyd at the Child Welfare Office. Dumbledore had no intention of letting the matter end there, although he was willing to do some quiet poking about while the investigation went on. That wasn’t the part that had concerned Arthur, though he’d been glad to hear it. His emotions were all a mess. He was proud and humbled that Dumbledore had thought to suggest his family to take in Harry, and a little crushed that it hadn’t come to pass.

He wasn’t a fame seeker or anything, but he genuinely felt for Harry--orphaned so young, and bound to be hounded by everyone for his fame for the rest of his days. He liked Muggles, but considering that they’d handed Harry off to a total stranger and then high-tailed it to someplace in Wales, according to Dumbledore, he wasn’t so sure that he agreed with Dumbledore that they were the proper guardians for Harry. However, he _definitely_ agreed that the Malfoys were not a good choice, either. Their boy was a spoilt little brat who made no secret of his contempt for nearly everyone and everything around him. That didn’t speak well to their parenting skills, and that wasn’t even touching on the Dark magic and Lucius’s ties to You-Know-Who. Who knew what sort of things they were exposing Harry to?

Beyond those worries was the genuine alarm he felt at the reminder that the Child Welfare Office was keeping tabs on his family. He shared all of this with his wife while the children were upstairs getting ready for bed, and then delicately added his thoughts.

‘Ginny is six this year, and since she’s the only one you’re still tutoring yourself--’

Molly cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. ‘I’ve been looking for a job since the second warning, Arthur. Don’t worry your head about that, sooner or later, something will come up. It’s surprisingly difficult for a dumpy middle-aged witch to find work,’ she added wryly.

Arthur pouted. ‘You’re not dumpy,’ he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Molly rolled her eyes and brushed him off, but she was smiling.

‘I’m also worried about poor Harry,’ he continued sadly. ‘I don’t know if we would have been the best home for him, but the Malfoys?’

To his surprise, she didn’t immediately agree, her gaze distant and pensive.

‘Aren’t you concerned?’ he prompted.

‘Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose,’ she said vaguely.

Arthur frowned. ‘You suppose? You know what Lucius is like! And Narcissa--what a cold fish--’

‘I just don’t think we should pass any judgements until we’ve got all the information, that’s all,’ Molly said carefully. ‘From what you’ve told me, Lucius took Harry from the Muggles, apparently kindly enough that Harry went along with him willingly.’

‘Apparently,’ Arthur emphasised. ‘He could have Confunded him.’

‘Except that Dumbledore already said he found no traces of magic on the premises, remember? How could Lucius have Confunded Harry inside the house and _not_ used magic? Even a previously-enchanted object designed to Confund him when he touched it would register as magic used inside the house, as the spell wouldn’t be fully cast until Harry made contact.’

Arthur frowned. That hadn’t occurred to him before--and if it had occurred to Dumbledore, he’d brushed it off without further thought, it would seem.

‘All right, so he was kind enough to Harry for five minutes,’ he admitted grudgingly.

‘Secondly, Lucius had Harry checked out by a healer as soon as possible after taking him in--and, if the _Prophet_ is right, took him to Diagon Alley for proper robes. Do those sound like the actions of someone intending to harm him?’ Molly asked insistently. ‘He’s not a pig, being fattened up for slaughter, so if Lucius was intending him harm, why would he go to all this trouble? Why bother filing for the temporary guardianship, or fighting so hard to keep him?’

Arthur smiled slowly. ‘You always were the clever one.’

She blushed. ‘I’m not saying his motives are entirely pure, either, but I don’t think we should start laying siege to Malfoy Manor until we have more information, that’s all. I’m sure Dumbledore wouldn’t be so concerned without cause, but…so far, I hate to admit it, but the Malfoys have given us no reason to be _quite_ so alarmed and up-in-arms.’

His smile widened. ‘Now that I know you’re looking, do you mind if I help you find a job?’

She kissed him like they were teenagers again.


	6. Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius struggles with his growing attachment to Harry, while Draco struggles with his own conflicted feelings toward Harry. Harry makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a setup chapter. Not much of Lucius's bigotry in this one, I don't think, but as always, do keep the warning in mind.
> 
> Rita Skeeter probably won't make an actual appearance in this story--at least, in my plans and actual written chapters thus far, she hasn't shown up. That may alter later, but don't get your hopes up--I've never been very good at writing her, so I try to avoid it.
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, no matter what flavour it comes in. ;) Enjoy!

Lucius was seriously concerned about a growing problem. It was possible that--it was painful to even think it, but he had to consider the very real possibility that--

He might like Harry better than he liked his own son.

It was May, and the weather was getting warmer, the boys’ studies starting to wrap up for the summer holidays (although Lucius had warned Harry that, due to his need to catch up, he would probably need some extra lessons over the summer as well), and the investigation was crawling along at the usual sluggish Ministry pace. Lucius had seen no signs of activity on Dumbledore’s part, either to help or to hinder, but that was cause for concern, not celebration. Severus and Lupin were regular visitors, and of course, Lupin maintained his pretence of guarding the perimeter of their property the rest of the time. Severus’s increased presence made Draco and Narcissa very happy, and Lupin’s made Harry happy, and Lucius just did his best to tolerate it all. His self-control certainly got a workout.

Despite his warning to Harry, Lucius privately thought that the extra summer lessons could be rather lax, and mostly concentrated on keeping his steadily-improving penmanship skills in practise. Not that the boy would need much encouragement to keep practising--Harry was a diligent, dedicated student. He spent a lot of his free time studying his textbooks and supplemental books, and reviewing the things he’d learnt. He even went so far as to re-copy his notes for legibility after lessons if he’d made a particularly large mess with his quill the first time. Draco had complained to Lucius more than once about Harry’s study habits.

‘I want to play,’ he whined, ‘but all Harry does is read. This one isn’t even one you or Mother _told_ him to read, but he says he’s got to read it anyhow! He’s going to be some boring old Ravenclaw!’

‘Perhaps you ought to take a leaf out of Harry’s book, rather than mocking him for it,’ Lucius snapped.

Draco merely pulled a face and left to find a more sympathetic ear.

Lucius had high hopes that once Harry caught up to Draco, he’d continue his hard-working habits and start beating Draco. Getting lower marks than Harry might inspire Draco to work harder. Probably not, but the possibility existed.

Harry was also a good deal more obedient than Draco, as Lucius discovered one Saturday morning while finishing up his work. There was a tentative knock on the door, and at his permission, the door creaked open and Harry’s head poked inside.

‘Harry? What can I do for you?’ he asked, a lot more kindly than he would have if it had been Draco--although his son wouldn’t have knocked, he would have just barged in, despite being repeatedly reprimanded for doing so.

The boy licked his lips nervously. ‘Draco asked me to tell you that he wants to go flying. He says I’ve had my broom for two months and today the weather’s perfect, and it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.’

Lucius frowned. ‘You couldn’t have asked Narcissa to supervise?’

Harry’s eyes darted anxiously. ‘She isn’t here--she asked me to tell you just now that she’s had an urgent message from her sister--not an emergency, but she wanted to go help.’

‘Ah.’ She would have gone quickly and quietly, then, which explained why she’d sent Harry and not stopped to tell him herself--to evade Abraxas’s notice. ‘Well, tell Draco that I am not finished working, and you both are to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground until I’m done. If you find something else to occupy yourselves with in the meantime, then we will have a little flying lesson this afternoon. Understood?’

Harry nodded comically. ‘Yes, sir!’

He quietly shut the door behind him, and Lucius nodded to himself with satisfaction. Harry would relay the message, and neither boy would be foolish enough to disobey him--or so he thought. It wasn’t an hour later that he heard joyous whooping, and when he turned to look out the window, a boy streaked past the window on a broom.

Lucius did not take kindly to being disobeyed. He was filled to the brim with icy rage as he stormed out to the Quidditch pitch, ready to thrash both boys--but he ran into a weeping, shaking Harry at the entrance to the pitch. The boy flinched from his angry expression, crying harder.

‘I told him what you said--I told him not to!’ Harry sobbed fearfully. ‘I was going to get you and tell you!’

Harry’s broom was lying on the ground next to the broom shed, apparently unused. It was hard to tell from Harry’s hair whether he’d been flying or not, as it was always a mess--with Draco, there was a visible difference between pre-flight and post-flight.

Lucius looked at him grimly. ‘Go to your room, Harry,’ he said lowly, making an effort not to snap at him.

‘Yes, sir,’ Harry whispered, and bolted for the house like there was a dog after him.

Draco was obliviously flying around above the pitch, occasionally letting out a yell of delight. He came to an abrupt, horrified halt the moment Lucius began to speak, though he never raised his voice above normal speaking volume.

‘Draco, you have exactly ten seconds to get back on the ground,’ he said conversationally.

This time, he was obeyed with alacrity. Draco was very pale, his eyes very wide. For once, he was taking his father seriously.

‘Did I or did I not instruct that you were _not_ to go flying unsupervised?’ Lucius asked softly.

Draco nodded mutely.

‘And did I, or did I not send word that I would allow you to fly this afternoon, provided you found something else to do?’

Another slow, silent nod.

‘You both will be incredibly lucky if I allow you within twenty feet of a broom in the next decade,’ he hissed, allowing his fury to show at last.

Draco flinched--and remained silent. He didn’t defend himself, let alone Harry.

That gave Lucius pause. Had Harry, or hadn’t he? According to Harry, he’d been on his way to fetch Lucius--not exactly a tattle-tale move, since he’d waited until Draco was in the air and showed no sign of coming down, and for all Harry knew, Draco could genuinely hurt himself, if he fell or crashed. However, it wouldn’t be the first time a little boy had lied in his own self-interest. Lucius had spent most of his younger years concocting stories and partial truths to explain away or cover various misdeeds…. But if Harry _was_ telling the truth, then he’d only been looking out for Draco, being a good friend to him, even if it wouldn’t have seemed that way to Draco.

Which meant that if Harry was telling the truth, Draco was being an _awful_ friend, by knowingly allowing him to get in trouble for flying when he hadn’t.

Lucius wanted to believe that Draco was better than that--that he had more character than a half-blood. For the moment, he decided to assume that Harry was lying.

‘Put those brooms away, and then go straight to your room while I think up your punishment. If I find even your nose outside of your room, you will not like the consequences.’

Draco obeyed so fast he was almost a blur. After he was gone, Lucius put several wards on the broom shed, to keep both boys out. He consulted with the house elves, and eventually decided that Draco would be made to wash all of the dishes for a month--well, except the knives and other sharp utensils. The idea was to punish him, not cause him to accidentally lop off a finger. Harry’s punishment would be to clean the kennels for a month--the dogs would be out on their daily walk at the time, so it shouldn’t be overwhelmingly terrifying for the boy--a worse punishment for his infraction and then for lying about it. Granted, Draco had only come clean because he’d been caught red-handed, but still…. And _both_ boys would be grounded from leaving their rooms outside of mealtimes and lessons.

Lucius’s ire increased when he went upstairs and found Draco playing with one of his toy dragons--he’d stayed in his room, as instructed, but was apparently unconcerned about the punishment awaiting him. Lucius decided to make it two months.

He left Draco shouting about how unfair it was, and carried on to Harry’s room in high dudgeon. When he opened the door, though, the wind was taken out of his sails pretty quickly.

Harry was sitting at the table, his head hanging, twisting his hands in his lap and sniffling, waiting for Lucius to arrive and deliver his punishment. What Draco _should_ have been doing.

Sighing, he went and sat across from the boy, gaining his complete attention immediately.

‘I-I’m sorry,’ Harry said in a wobbly voice, wiping his face on his sleeve. ‘I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen t-to me.’

‘Harry, we bought you handkerchiefs for that,’ Lucius pointed out mildly.

‘Sorry,’ Harry sniffled, and retrieved his handkerchief.

Lucius drew a slow breath, steeling himself against the boy’s pitiful visage. ‘When I say something, I expect to be listened to. I expect to be obeyed. And I do not like to be lied to.’

Harry’s chin quivered. ‘I didn’t lie to you! I would never lie to you, I promise! I didn’t touch any of the brooms, and I tried to tell Draco--I really did!’

He studied the boy’s red, puffy face carefully, but there was no change, no guilty shift in expression--he was telling the truth. Draco had simply not bothered to stick up for Harry, to keep his cousin out of trouble. Lucius was simultaneously pleased and distressed. Where had he gone so wrong with his son?

Apparently, he’d been silent too long, because Harry’s face crumpled and fresh tears began to fall.

‘P-please don’t send me away!’ he sobbed. ‘I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys!’

Lucius felt as though his chest had just cracked, and he stared at the boy slack-jawed.

‘Wha…? Back to the _Dursleys_?!’

He shook off his consternation with an effort, but the new ache in his chest would not budge.

‘What on earth gave you that idea, foolish boy?’ he snapped fiercely. ‘The only place I ever intend on sending you away to is school, and that’s only because I have to, not because I want to. You need an education. No, you’re staying here with us, and even if you weren’t, you _certainly_ wouldn’t be going back to those filthy _Muggles_! I don’t ever want to hear such a ridiculous thing come out of your mouth again, do you understand me?’

Harry calmed a little at this vehement assurance. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said quietly.

‘Good. Now then. Since it would seem that you obeyed me to the letter, and that you attempted to convince Draco to do the same-- _and_ since you were doing the right thing by coming to fetch me…I do not see the need for any real punishment this time,’ Lucius said, a little disgusted with himself for being so soft, but too moved by Harry’s tears to do otherwise. ‘You’ve had quite an upset, and that is enough.’

Harry immediately brightened. ‘You mean…you believe me?’ he gasped hopefully.

Lucius tilted his head. ‘And why shouldn’t I? I just had to be certain, you understand.’

‘Oh, I do! And you believe me!’

‘Yes, yes, I--’

He cut off abruptly, as he’d suddenly found himself with a lapful of Harry, who was clinging to his waist with a strength surprising in one so small. He had been getting taller of late, though--the house elves had let out the hems of his trousers and robes a week ago, when Narcissa had told them they could see Harry’s ankles. Good food on a regular basis and the nutrient potions were doing him good.

Lucius patted his shoulder awkwardly. ‘There, there. Now we’ve got that sorted.’

That didn’t appear to help.

‘Good gracious, Harry!’

The boy pulled back, sniffling but smiling, and dabbed at his nose with his handkerchief.

‘I’m sorry, Cousin Lucius. It’s just that the Dursleys never believed me when I told them I honestly hadn’t done anything.’

Lucius softened, taking the handkerchief and wiping at Harry’s face, tugging him more firmly into his lap. Harry’s smile grew shy as Lucius fussed over him as best he could, trying to remember what Narcissa did to tidy the boys after they’d had an upset.

‘There now,’ he said as gently as he could. ‘Harry, if you tell me the truth always, I will _always_ believe you.’

This resulted in the second hug in the past fifteen minutes, which had to be some kind of record for Lucius. He sighed and patted the boy’s head, hoping Narcissa would return from her sister’s soon and take over her duties as Official Comforter of Small Boys.

‘I will, Cousin Lucius, I promise,’ came the muffled little voice.

Lucius sighed again. ‘I know you will.’

He figured he had about three or four years at least before Harry would become mischievous enough to _lie_.

Now _Draco_ , on the other hand….

.

\--------------------

.

Nothing was going right in Draco’s life, and he just couldn’t understand it. The nearest he could figure was that everything had gone wonky when Harry came. And Harry himself wasn’t at all what Draco wanted him to be. Harry was supposed to be his Best Friend, and help him show up Theodore and Blaise this summer, but instead, he was some stodgy little bookworm who thought studying was more important than Quidditch! How was Draco supposed to work with that? All of his best efforts had come to naught, as everything he said only seemed to make Harry _more_ determined to do schoolwork all the time. What did it matter? As long as they knew the basics when they went to Hogwarts, none of the rest would matter.

He was making Draco look bad, which made it even worse. Draco had never had much trouble pouting his way out of trouble--if his parents got annoyed with him while he was supposed to be doing lessons, he just whined about how he had too much energy and needed to go play for a while, and they’d let him off for an hour or so. Or he’d complain that his stomach hurt, and then his mother would coddle and fuss over him and bring him treats. It had been harder to get it to work on his father, as Lucius would sigh and go on about ‘the family name,’ but if Draco just pouted a _little_ harder, he usually gave in, too, eventually. If Lucius was in a particularly bad mood, though, Draco could always burst into noisy tears, which inevitably brought Narcissa storming in, telling Lucius off for being too harsh.

Neither of those options worked anymore, as both of his parents were getting more and more annoyed with him more and more easily. This was all because of Harry, naturally, because while Draco was daydreaming about his toys or the Quidditch pitch, squirming in his seat and wishing he was somewhere else, _Harry_ was taking notes, scribbling as fast as he could with his tongue clenched between his teeth, his brows furrowed with concentration. Didn’t he know he’d get wrinkles that way? Although he never seemed to care much about his appearance--he was always a hopeless mess. That and occasionally being too loud (although he was playing with Draco when that happened, so Draco got in trouble, too) were the only things Harry ever seemed to get in trouble for.

His parents hadn’t actually come out and said it, but nonetheless, Draco had distinctly got the message every time they scolded him and praised Harry, every time Draco failed a quiz and Harry passed…. _‘Why can’t you be more like Harry?’_

Draco thought he might hate Harry, a little, although it was really hard when Harry shared his treats with him after Narcissa rewarded him for passing the quiz, or when Harry let him play with his toy soldiers while he was busy studying even though Draco had already broken one of them, or like now, when Draco had two months of washing dishes to look forward to (his mother had heartily agreed with his father when she returned, furious that Draco might have fallen and broken his neck), and Harry had sneaked down to the kitchens to help.

He glanced guiltily at his cousin. He’d deliberately not spoken up for Harry, trying to get him in trouble, too, when it was all Draco’s own fault that he hadn’t listened and had gone flying anyway. He had been secretly resenting Harry and hating him a little bit, and yet here he was, doing the scrubbing that Draco had been grumbling about doing when Harry arrived. He was even humming a little, looking supremely content.

Draco half-heartedly wiped at the plate he was holding with his sopping towel. ‘You might get in trouble for helping me, you know. If Father finds you down here--’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Harry cheerfully. ‘I’ll tell him you told me to get lost, but I insisted on helping anyway. What’s he going to do? Ground me the same as you?’

‘Huh.’ He hadn’t thought of that. ‘I suppose you’re right. Even if he did, you’d just end up washing dishes with me anyway.’

Harry grinned and handed him another plate. ‘Exactly.’ He paused, looking a little nervous. ‘Draco?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Narcissa told me your birthday is next month.’

Draco sighed. ‘Yeah, on the fifth.’

He’d already presented his parents with a long, highly detailed list of everything he wanted, but he couldn’t imagine it would be very fun. Either his father wouldn’t allow any celebrations at all, since Draco was grounded, or else they’d go on so Harry wouldn’t miss out, and Draco would be stuck down here doing dishes.

He smiled a little--well, at least he wouldn’t be stuck down here alone. Maybe his parents were right. Harry seemed perfect--he was quiet and obedient and studious, and really helpful. He seemed to stay out of trouble without even trying almost all the time. Draco couldn’t sit still long enough for that--he wanted to be out and about, _doing_ , not reading about other people doing! He didn’t know how to become enthusiastic about studying--it was so _boring_! He wished he could snap his fingers and get his work done just like that, so maybe his parents wouldn’t look at him with ever-increasing disappointment.

Why couldn’t he be as good as Harry? And why couldn’t his parents just be happy with him the way he was? They had seemed to love him just fine before, even if Lucius _could_ get cold and mean at times, particularly in public.

‘Do you still want that toy dragon?’ Harry asked tentatively.

Draco’s eyes lit for a moment. ‘You mean the one that breathes fire?!’ Then he sighed again, deflating. ‘Yeah, but Mother and Father both keep saying no. They’ll never let me have it. They keep telling me I’ll burn the house down, but I will not! I’d only play with it in the bathroom, where there’s water to put out any fires right away!’

Harry still looked uncertain, but he smiled a little. ‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve tried saving for it myself,’ he admitted, blushing, ‘but I keep seeing Quidditch magazines….’

‘And Sugar Quills,’ Harry said matter-of-factly. ‘Don’t forget all the Sugar Quills you bought. Lucius was really angry.’

Draco’s blush deepened. He’d come really, really close to getting a caning on that one--only his mother pointing out that it _was_ Draco’s money to do with as he pleased had saved him. Although his mother had spent several hours afterward lecturing him about how buying five hundred Sugar Quills wasn’t the wisest choice for his finances _or_ his health, no matter how good the sale was.

Saint Harry, naturally, never bought anything with his pocket money, saving it dutifully in an undisclosed location.

Draco had tried to find his stash--just to borrow! He would have paid it back…eventually--but Harry had a real talent for hiding things, apparently. He’d considered asking his cousin to hide _his_ pocket money, too, and tell him where he’d put it, but there didn’t seem much point when he inevitably spent it all before long.

The worst of it was that Harry clearly wanted things, but he wouldn’t do anything to get them! Despite Lucius’s glamour over his scar when they went out on the occasional Sunday, Harry was recognised wherever he went, so it wasn’t as though he even would have had to pay for any of it himself. All he would have had to do was peel himself away from Lucius (he clung to him the whole time they were out, whether it was Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, like his life depended on it), walk up to someone and say, ‘Hello, I’m Harry Potter, I really like that fancy stationery,’ and _boom_! There would have been fifty people fighting over who got to buy him the stationery, or whatever he wanted. Draco would have killed to have that kind of power! But _no_ , meek little Harry just hung onto Lucius’s robes and peered fearfully at all the gawkers.

Draco liked it better when he and his mother went shopping alone, because the trips were longer and there were fewer people crowding him while he was trying to browse. Harry seemed to like it better, too, although Draco hadn’t figured out why. Every time they returned from shopping, Harry was just sitting in a corner in Lucius’s study, reading, while Lucius sat at his desk and worked. It looked colossally boring to Draco.

Although…it wasn’t that Draco _wanted_ to hang out in his father’s study and read and be quiet, because he _didn’t_ , not at all, not when there so many other, more interesting things he could be doing, it was just that…Lucius had never _allowed_ him to come and sit in his study, let alone invited him, and one time as Draco and his mother were preparing to leave, he’d seen Lucius holding his study door open and heard him tell Harry that he could come in if he wished. It was a stupid thing to be jealous of, since he didn’t actually _want_ to do it, but Draco found himself jealous anyway.

His mother was less obvious about her preference for Harry, but Draco felt it all the same. Narcissa treated both boys as equally as possible, scolding or praising as necessary, and giving neither of them privileges that the other didn’t also receive. Still, Draco didn’t think his mother ever looked at him with the tender fondness she bestowed on Harry--the looks he got were more along the lines of affectionate irritation. He couldn’t quite put his finger on anything more concrete than that--it wasn’t that she ever forgot about tucking them both in and giving them goodnight kisses, and if she read a bedtime story to one of them, she always invited the other in to hear it, too--but he still subtly felt less wanted. Not less loved, necessarily, just not as _liked_.

Lucius, though--Draco was certain his father both liked _and_ loved Harry more--if he was even capable of loving anything. He still did not respond when anyone said the words, and to Draco’s knowledge, hadn’t ever said it to anyone himself. He didn’t ruffle Harry’s hair or hug him (that Draco knew of) or coddle him, but Harry’s frequent presence in his study spoke volumes. Now that the weather was warm, Lucius had also invited Harry to walk in the gardens with him on at least one occasion--an invitation he had not extended to anyone else. Narcissa claimed it was because he was trying to slowly introduce Harry to the dogs, to get him over his fear of them, but Draco wasn’t sure he believed that, because why wouldn’t he and his mother be allowed to come along and help?

And the most obvious difference was in Lucius’s reaction to the boys’ whining. Harry rarely did so, and Draco--well, he preferred to think of it less as ‘whining’ and more as a strategic persuasive tactic, and he did it as often as he deemed necessary to try to get what he wanted, or _out_ of doing something he didn’t want to do.

‘Draco, that’s enough,’ Lucius would snap, regardless, and either give in to Draco out of frustration, or put his foot down about whatever it was--often the latter, anymore, as his annoyance with Draco seemed to be permanently at high levels lately.

But one night at dinner, when Abraxas was absent, Harry had looked at his plate and his face screwed up in an unpractised pout (Draco reminded himself to give his poor cousin lessons).

‘Leeks again?’ he had said in a small, whiny voice. ‘I don’t like leeks.’

‘They’re good for you,’ Narcissa said gently, cajoling, as she did when Draco whined about eating something.

Harry’s pout deepened. ‘So are peas, and they taste better. Why can’t I have peas instead?’ he asked, his whining growing stronger.

Lucius had looked up from his meal, at Harry, and to Draco’s absolute shock, he hadn’t borne even a single trace of annoyance.

‘Dobby!’ he snapped, and when the house elf appeared, he’d commanded that Harry not be served leeks anymore, replacing them with peas or some other green when leeks were served to everyone else.

Harry had been in total shock over his first house elf sighting, and had whispered frantically about it to Draco after they were sent upstairs later, so he probably hadn’t fully appreciated what had just happened, but Draco certainly did.

‘There,’ Lucius said matter-of-factly after Dobby was gone. ‘No more leeks.’

Harry grinned and said nothing, visibly dazed by Dobby.

Draco had pouted for the rest of the night, and irritably brushed off Harry’s excitement about Dobby.

‘So what?’ he said sullenly. ‘It’s just a house elf. Who cares?’

Lucius had _never_ replaced anything Draco hadn’t wanted to eat, ever. He’d said he didn’t have to eat it, whatever it was, on two occasions that Draco could remember, but he’d never said, ‘All right, you never have to eat it.’ And Harry was just stupid anyway--who whined about eating something and then requested something just as gross? Draco always demanded to have something tasty instead, like sweets or pudding.

Draco shook off those thoughts with a sigh, thoroughly muddled and upset but not quite sure what to do about it.

‘Remind me to teach you how to pout properly,’ he said imperiously.

Harry frowned. ‘How to pout? _Properly_?’

‘Yes,’ Draco sniffed, tossing his head. ‘You did it the other night, and you did it all wrong.’

Harry just blinked, bewildered, and then turned back to his scrubbing.

.

\-------------------

.

Harry hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Dobby ever since he’d seen the house elf that night at dinner, and Draco’s reminder just made him obsess over it more. He had been itching with curiosity about them ever since they were first mentioned when he arrived two months ago, and the itch was turning into a burn as they continued to be an invisible presence. He knew they existed not only because Lucius, Narcissa and Draco all insisted they were real, but also because when he occasionally forgot to put something away, it miraculously moved to where it belonged while he was away or sleeping, and also because his dirty clothes disappeared from the hamper overnight and reappeared in the armoire or the chest of drawers, clean and pressed. He’d never seen any of the Malfoys doing laundry (and the mental image made him giggle), and they hadn’t required _him_ to do laundry, so _someone_ or some _thing_ had to be doing the laundry, and all of the other chores, because Harry actually wasn’t allowed to do chores. He’d asked about that, once, and Lucius had responded rather severely.

‘Your _chores_ are to attend to your education and to keep yourself and your rooms presentable,’ he had snapped so sharply that Harry hadn’t dared to bring it up again.

Now he supposed he knew why--the house elves did everything, except when he or Draco misbehaved enough to warrant a punishment. _That_ was when they’d be asked to do chores. Harry wasn’t sure he agreed with that, as he’d always enjoyed _some_ of the chores the Dursleys had asked of him, like taking care of the flower beds--it wasn’t really the chores he objected to so much as the sheer amount of work asked of him, coupled with the fact that Dudley was never required to lift a finger. Still, he had to admit that it was nice to have time to study and practise the many, many things he was learning, and then to have time to play afterward. Even if he’d finished all of his chores at the Dursleys’, they had simply locked him in his cupboard or kicked him outside to be chased by Dudley and his friends, the first of which was boring and the second of which was painful.

Harry still wasn’t entirely convinced that he couldn’t be shipped back to the Dursleys’ at a moment’s notice, despite Lucius’s assurances that he wouldn’t be shipped off anywhere. He wasn’t their son, just a cousin in need, so he had no sense of permanence, just as he’d had none at Privet Drive. The Dursleys’ threats to ship him off had always been to an orphanage, and sometimes Harry dreamt that he’d been so bad the Malfoys sent him to the Dursleys, and the Dursleys sent him to an orphanage, and the orphanage sent him to the coal mines (this was where Aunt Petunia insisted the rabble of society belonged). He woke up sweaty and shaking from those dreams, but he didn’t want to be a baby and go to Narcissa in the night, so he just sat awake until he fell back asleep from exhaustion.

Tonight, though, he sat awake because he was waiting long enough to make sure that Narcissa and Draco were both asleep and wouldn’t hear what he was about to do. He wriggled with excitement, tangling his sheets awfully, but he’d worry about that in the morning. At ten, he was too impatient to wait anymore and pulled the drapes shut, sitting cross-legged and trying not to bounce.

‘Dobby,’ he whispered.

Nothing happened, and Harry sighed, disappointed, his shoulders slumping, and figured maybe they only answered to--

_CRACK_

Harry shrieked a little, and covered his mouth, hoping wildly that nobody had heard that or the loud crack that had caused it.

Dobby, bulbous-eyed and pointy-nosed, stood before him, twisting his hands in the tea-towel he wore.

‘Mister Harry Potter is calling for Dobby, sir?’ the house elf asked in his squeaky little voice.

Harry grinned. ‘Yes!’ he shouted, and then quickly lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘I mean, yes. I did call for you.’

Dobby shifted anxiously. ‘Is Mister Harry Potter needing something?’

‘Needing something? Oh, no, I just--I’ve never met a house elf before, and I thought I’d introduce myself. You’re the first house elf whose name I’ve heard, so I thought we could get to know one another,’ Harry said quickly. ‘But if you’re too busy, I…I mean if you’ve got other things to do right now, then I understand, and maybe we can talk later?’

There was a long pause, before Dobby suddenly burst into distressingly noisy tears. Harry poked his head out of the drapes, but there was no sign of movement at his door, so he pulled it back in.

‘I’m sorry, Dobby, I didn’t mean to upset you! I just--’

‘Upset Dobby? No, sir!’ Dobby cried earnestly. ‘Mister Harry Potter is kind, too kind!’

Harry bit his lip. ‘Well, then…you don’t have anything else to do right now?’

‘No, sir, Dobby has finished all of his work for the night,’ Dobby said, sniffling and wiping his face on his tea-towel.

‘Oh, good. Then do you mind sitting down and talking to me for a while?’

To Harry’s discomfort, this resulted in more noisy tears, and proclamations that Harry was ‘truly a great wizard, sir, truly!’ Eventually, Dobby calmed down again and sat down in front of Harry.

‘What would Mister Harry Potter like to know?’ he asked, his eyes still teary.

Harry grinned. ‘Oh, I want to know absolutely everything there is to know about house elves!’

.

\---------------------

.

Lucius scowled at the growing stack of _Prophets_ on his table. He was keeping them in his rooms upstairs, rather than the study where Harry might find them and get upset (his fame seemed to distress him a great deal). Neither he nor Narcissa had any desire to keep Harry locked away like some princess in a tower--that would hardly be exposing him to his heritage as a wizard, would it?--so they had taken him out to Diagon Alley four more times since that first trip, taking precautions, naturally, and each trip had resulted in at least three _Prophet_ articles each, all detailing the so-called ‘Harry Potter Sightings.’ There was even a club on ‘Potter Watch.’ Lucius was thoroughly disgusted by the whole thing.

However, it was always a good idea to keep an eye on the public and the media, not just one’s enemies, so he’d gone on collecting them, carefully reading and taking note of any trends. There were two, of course--pro-Malfoy and anti-Malfoy. Ortovan, a pure-blood supremacist and one of the _Prophet_ reporters covering the ‘sightings,’ was obviously on the pro-Malfoy side, pointing out all of the donations Malfoys made and how well off Harry would be in their care, downplaying any Dark connections they’d had in the past. He only managed to annoy Lucius because, despite the fact that Harry had only been seen in his and Narcissa’s company, Ortovan spouted _Abraxas’s_ praises, using Lucius’s success as proof that Harry was in a good position. Lucius resented that--he’d worked very hard _despite_ Abraxas’s influence, and the Malfoy vault had rapidly become the Malfoy _vaults_ under Lucius’s business acumen. One business became three, and where his father had fumbled and tried to force the pure-blood agenda on everyone at the Ministry in a clumsy, aggressive manner, Lucius had used a silver tongue and well-placed bribes to get what he wanted. He was quite popular among some at the Ministry, well known for his excellent taste in wines and delicacies, and his willingness to bestow these and monetary gifts on those who were…cooperative. And well-bred, usually, although not exclusively. A few half-bloods who’d proven themselves particularly useful had found favour with him.

In the other direction was the menace known as Lovegood, who’d recently started his own laughable publication, but hadn’t fully, officially left the _Prophet_ yet. He spouted alarmist nonsense about how Harry would be corrupted and turned Dark, if he wasn’t murdered or maimed for some Dark ritual, and generally tried to stir up the populace into a rage. It didn’t seem to be working, as his articles on the subject grew increasingly desperate. This confirmed Lucius’s feeling--the general wizarding populace was still mostly in shock that Harry Potter had suddenly resurfaced, and they weren’t quite sure how to react yet to the fact that he’d resurfaced in the care of the Malfoys. The news of the temporary guardianship hadn’t broken yet, but Lucius expected a few explosions from the more violently anti-Malfoy factions when it came out.

The third writer on the subject was Rita Skeeter, of course. Lucius remembered that she’d written a few scathing articles about his obvious guilt before his trial, only to immediately change course and start writing about how dreadful it must have been after Lucius was cleared due to his plea of being under the Imperius. She’d painted him in the light of a loving family man whose only fault was being powerful and ambitious, causing him to come to the Dark Lord’s attention. He’d had other concerns back then and had brushed off the articles, but now he realised that it meant she wasn’t someone like Ortovan or Lovegood, writing from the heart what _they_ truly believed. No, she wrote what was popular at the moment, what she thought the public wanted to hear. Currently, she was merely reporting eyewitness statements and throwing in a few comments on how miraculous it was, catering to the public’s gobsmacked state of mind.

In other words, Skeeter was likely someone who could be bought. Lucius smiled to himself--a reporter in one’s pocket was like money in the bank. Undoubtedly, it would be easy to charm her and bribe her into compliance.


	7. The Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius discovers more negligence on the Ministry's part, and he and Harry meet with Dumbledore for the return of Harry's belongings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things: Lucius is always prejudiced, but in this chapter he also displays a bad attitude toward tutors--this does not reflect my view of tutors. I think tutors are a fantastic idea and an underappreciated profession. Lucius simply had an ill-suited one, and it soured him on the whole idea.
> 
> Also, I am not in the camp of people who think that Dumbledore must have stolen from Harry. However, I do think that he had a one-track mind, and was trying to groom Harry for the specific purpose of defeating Voldemort (a very, very important goal, to be sure), so the items and vaults which I added to Harry's inheritance I believe Dumbledore would have returned to Harry (had they existed) if they both had lived after Voldemort's defeat. It's within his character to simply consider them extraneous distractions--not to mention his apparent love of dispensing information and quest items in small doses over a long period of time. ;) So this is not my way of making him Evil!Thief!Bastard!Dumbledore, because I don't believe he is. Also, adding items and vaults gave me stuff to talk about. ;)
> 
> In conclusion, I don't hate tutors or Dumbledore. Okay? Cool. As always, any kind of feedback is desirable and welcome, and I hope you enjoy! :)

Easy--much too easy. Lucius smirked to himself as he left the meeting with Skeeter. The woman had her ambitions, which meant she was extremely eager to ingratiate herself with such an influential person as Lucius--and making a not-inconsiderable bit on the side certainly didn’t hurt anything. She’d assured him that it would all be done with a reporter’s subtlety, naturally, just a few added comments each time about how well Harry looked and what good care the Malfoys must be taking with him. He trusted her about as far as he could throw her, but as the populace hadn’t really decided how it felt about the whole thing, she was willing to take a stab at trying to sway them, and that was all he really asked.

At the Ministry, though, his successful, productive day came to an abrupt halt.

‘What do you mean, I am not authorised to have Harry Potter’s rightful belongings?’ Lucius asked the Administrator’s cowering assistant, his voice low and menacing, his eyes flashing. ‘Am I not his guardian?’

The squat wizard looked as though he was a breath away from pissing himself. ‘Y-y-yes, Mr Malfoy, but--temporarily,’ he squeaked, accidentally poking himself in the eye with his glasses when he tried to put them on. ‘Temporary guardians aren’t permitted to have an orphan’s inheritance, in case it, er, turns up missing after the orphan in question is transferred to a permanent guardian.’

Lucius’s nostrils flared and he tapped his fingers on the counter with annoyance, but he didn’t think it was actually a _bad_ law. Probably a very good idea, in most cases. It was just inconvenient to him now, when he wished to see for himself what Harry was supposed to have been given when his parents died--what had _not_ been given to him, but secreted away somewhere--and then return those items to the boy. Harry, despite his overall happiness at Malfoy Manor, still occasionally expressed longing for his parents, and his desire to hear stories about them from Severus and Lupin seemed to be unquenchable. Lucius couldn’t find it in him to blame the boy or resent this unfulfillable longing--a child ought to have parents. He was a grown man and he still missed his mother, sometimes, so he could hardly begrudge Harry, who was only seven, the same feeling.

‘Can you at least tell me where Harry can find his inheritance?’ he demanded. ‘When his permanent guardianship is settled, he has a right to his assets. I assume his parents had a vault, and he doesn’t even have the Gringotts key--so I would like to know who _does_.’

The assistant sank down in his chair a little further, and his voice got even squeakier. ‘We, er…we don’t actually know, Mr Malfoy.’

Lucius very seriously contemplated murder for a moment. The assistant was a Muggle-born, no one would miss him.

Still, it probably wasn’t worth going to Azkaban for, if the Ministry decided to get testy about a murder on their property, and Lucius grudgingly admitted that it would be a case of shooting the messenger, as this particular wizard was too young to have been working in 1981, so it was highly unlikely to be his fault.

‘How is that possible?’ he hissed. ‘Surely _someone_ had to take possession of the Potters’ remaining belongings, _someone_ was executor of the will.’

The assistant swallowed. ‘Sirius Black--’

Lucius snarled, and the assistant really did piss himself. Lucius vacated the premises before it could start to smell.

If Sirius Black was Harry’s legal guardian _and_ the executor of the will, then that also had to do with Dumbledore, no doubt. Unwilling to attempt to try for guardianship of Harry himself, the old man had simply shunted him out of the spotlight with reassurances that he was safe and being protected. He’d nudged the guardianship out of the Ministry’s immediate attention, and had no doubt done the same with the Potters’ will. This most likely meant that Dumbledore had all of the things that belonged to Harry, whatever those things might be. It most certainly included his Gringotts key--the rest of it could be trivial things like his father’s Chocolate Frog Card collection, for all Lucius knew. He was less concerned about the non-financial aspects of Harry’s inheritance--not that the Malfoys couldn’t provide for him amply. No, Lucius had no intention of touching Harry’s money, nor of allowing the boy himself to touch it until he was older, but just in case he was unable to permanently fend off Dumbledore and keep Harry here with them, well….

Lucius would rest easier knowing that Harry had the financial means to look after himself, even if the Malfoys were no longer permitted to be a part of his life. If they lost the boy, the least they could do was arm him with the tools to defend himself and survive, and money was an extremely important part of that.

Not that Lucius had any intention of losing. He’d lost to Dumbledore about removing references to wizard/Muggle marriages from the Hogwarts library. He’d lost to Dumbledore about requiring Muggle-borns to be tested for intelligence before entry into Hogwarts. He’d even lost to the old man on this past term’s budgeting plan.

But not on this--this time, he _would not_ lose.

With that in mind, Lucius returned to Diagon Alley, this time headed for Gringotts. The goblins had their own rules and laws, unrelated to any human standards, be they pure-blood, non-affiliated, or Muggle. Lucius had had an amicable relationship with them thus far based on understanding that and being cooperative with them, and he fully expected their unusual systems to work in his favour now.

Rodnuk was the goblin he usually worked with, and fortunately he happened to be in. He was aware of Lucius’s alleged ‘paranoia’ and quickly had them ensconced in a private, warded room, before Lucius could even explain why he was there.

‘You don’t appear to have any paperwork with you,’ Rodnuk said in the typical snappish goblin manner.

‘That’s because I’m not entirely certain what I need,’ Lucius admitted. ‘I came today with a question, not a plan.’

That got Rodnuk’s attention, his horny brows rising. ‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I….’ He cleared his throat. ‘I have temporary custody of Harry Potter.’

There was no reaction from the goblin--Lucius wasn’t surprised. They cared little for the affairs of wizards, so long as it didn’t stop business.

‘In their usual slipshod fashion, it seems that no one at the Ministry bothered to check up on the status of the Potters’ will. Therefore, Sirius Black remains the executor of the will.’

Rodnuk frowned, a truly frightening sight. ‘Mr Black is in Azkaban, making his status void. The will has no executor.’

‘At least as far as Gringotts is concerned,’ Lucius agreed. ‘The real problem is that, as he _is_ in Azkaban, he cannot possibly have collected any of Harry Potter’s or anyone else’s inheritance from the will--and yet Harry Potter does not have any of his inheritance, if it exists.’

Rodnuk’s frown deepened. ‘We have a copy of the Potters’ will on file. I will procure you a copy before you leave. And I assure you that, while most of it is of no concern to us, Mr Potter _does_ have an inheritance. He should have no less than two Gringotts keys and three certifications of extant vaults.’

Lucius’s eyes widened before he could stop himself. ‘Three?’

‘Indeed--his own vault, a trust that was opened by the Potters upon his birth to pay for his care and education, which is available to him now and has been collecting interest for the past seven years. His mother’s vault, inherited upon her death, available to him when he reaches eleven years old and collecting interest--and his father’s vault, the Potter family vault, which can only be opened by a person of their direct bloodline or by a goblin, also collecting interest. He is not permitted to access the Potter family vault until he is seventeen, according to the terms of the will.’

That made sense.

‘And Gringotts does not have those keys or certifications?’ he pressed.

Rodnuk shook his head. ‘We have our own records of the certifications and keys being issued, and of course we can open the vaults without keys, but we do not have those in our possession. I will have to look in our records to discover who took possession of them after the Potters’ deaths.’

Lucius ground his teeth. ‘I’ll bet you a Sickle you’ll find it was Albus Dumbledore.’

Rodnuk grinned, showing his own sharp teeth. ‘I’ll take that bet.’

He snorted. ‘So if I brought a letter from Harry saying that he wanted me to take the keys and certificates and bring them to him, then whoever has them would have to give them to me?’

The goblin shrugged. ‘If you wish. It would be easier to bring Mr Potter himself in and have whoever has them simply give them to him. If the person refuses to hand them over, they risk bringing down our--considerable wrath,’ he added rather menacingly.

Lucius suppressed a shiver. ‘You’d really let Harry just…have them? He isn’t yet of age.’

Another shrug. ‘That’s one of your silly wizard rules. He isn’t a baby--he can talk and write, can he not? The only terms we are bound to obey is the terms of the will, since the Potters had it witnessed and notarised by a goblin as well as by your wizard organisations. He can have the keys and the certifications, and we will give him access to his parents’ vaults as soon as he is permitted by the terms of the will.’

Lucius smiled. Yes, he was going to end the day on a good note, despite the unexpected road block he’d run into.

‘Very well. I’ll take a copy of the will with me today, and when you’ve located the name of the person who has Harry’s keys and certificates, send me an owl and we’ll arrange a time for Harry and…the person to meet here.’

Rodnuk grinned again. ‘Don’t forget to bring the Sickle you’ll owe me when it isn’t Dumbledore.’

Lucius raised a brow. ‘We’ll see.’

.

\-----------------

.

‘Harry,’ said Lucius when he returned, very coldly and seriously. ‘We need to talk.’

Harry swallowed and followed him out of the playroom, exchanging a worried glance with Draco. He wondered if this was because of his lack of progress with the dogs? He was still too afraid to actually walk up to the kennels.

Or--and Harry’s stomach dropped--had Lucius found out that Harry had been helping Draco complete his assigned punishment? Dobby had promised he wouldn’t tell on Harry, but maybe one of the other house elves had tattled? Dobby wasn’t like the other house elves, after all. He wanted to be free and get paid for his work, and he had very definite opinions on how he’d like to be treated. In fact, he and Harry had nearly argued over Lucius, until Harry reluctantly admitted that Lucius _could_ be a little nicer when he asked for things, and Dobby had accepted that as more than any other wizard had ever admitted. He liked being Harry’s friend, whereas the other house elves had no interest in being friends. He was so excited about being Harry’s friend that sometimes he started bouncing up and down in the middle of conversations, but Harry was slowly growing used to that.

Harry quivered as Lucius ushered him into his study, his face still hard and cold. He stood beside his cousin’s desk and awkwardly wiped his hands on his robes, biting his lip and waiting for the axe to fall.

‘Sit,’ Lucius instructed, his tone clipped.

He scrambled onto his usual chair and reminded himself to breathe. Lucius had promised he wouldn’t have to go back to the Dursleys, he told himself anxiously. He’d _promised_. Lucius was too good and honourable to go back on a promise.

Lucius settled across from him, shuffling some papers, and he continued not to look at him.

Harry wondered how he’d be punished, since Lucius had promised not to send him back, and he’d angrily told Harry several times that he _did not_ _ever_ put children in cupboards or starve them. Draco had said that the dishwashing was unusual, as he was usually grounded on the rare occasions he was punished, but Harry hadn’t thought to ask what that entailed. Dudley had never been grounded, as Uncle Vernon threatened once--Dudley cried, Aunt Petunia ticked Uncle Vernon off for upsetting her Diddy-dums, and it had never been mentioned again.

‘I’ve been to Gringotts today, and I have learnt several things,’ Lucius began seriously. ‘First of all, neither I nor any other member of this family is permitted to access your belongings or inheritance, as it is not granted to us under the conditions of temporary custody.’

Harry blinked owlishly, struggling to adjust to this subject when he’d been expecting to be scolded for something. And _temporary_ custody? What did that mean?

The vision of an orphanage rose in Harry’s mind and he shuddered. After all, Lucius had said that Harry was staying there with the Malfoys--but he hadn’t said for how long, had he? Harry’s determination to be good in every way tripled--he’d make them want to keep him permanently, forever and ever, not temporarily.

‘Secondly,’ Lucius went on, sounding slightly bored now, ‘some of your inheritance is in someone else’s possession. I expect to be meeting with that person in a few days. You will accompany me, and that person will return at least your Gringotts keys and certificates at that time.’

Harry’s nose wrinkled. He was torn between his joy at the prospect of accompanying Lucius anywhere--even walking near the dog kennels was a lot less scary when he was walking with Lucius, listening to him lecture about the various magical and mundane plants in the garden--and his reluctance to go out in public.

‘Do I have to?’ he mumbled, unconsciously reaching up to flatten his fringe over his scar.

Lucius’s gaze tracked the movement and he sighed. ‘Unfortunately, yes. You have to be physically present to directly receive your belongings. I’m not permitted to take them for you, even with the intent to deliver them to you.’

He squirmed unhappily. ‘But what if I don’t want to hang on to the st--things? What if I lose my key and cer--cer--thingy?’

‘Certificate,’ Lucius said in what Harry had come to recognise as his ‘teacher’ voice. ‘You won’t lose them.’

‘They won’t let you take them even if I write a note saying it’s okay?’

‘No,’ said Lucius, a touch impatiently. ‘You have to come with me, you have to take them, and you won’t lose them.’

Harry scowled, heaving a sigh of his own. ‘Okay,’ he said glumly, adding mentally, _But I don’t have to like it._

Lucius seemed to know what he was thinking and grimaced as though in agreement.

.

\----------------

.

Lucius had thought about showing Harry the copy of the will, or reading it out to him, but Narcissa had advised him against it when she saw it.

‘It’s a bit much for a seven-year-old,’ she’d said reluctantly. ‘All of this is a bit much for him--let him deal with one thing at a time. Perhaps we can let him see it after he’s got his belongings back.’

‘Then I suppose you don’t think I should take him down to view his vault, either?’

She pursed her lips. ‘Not yet. He should review them, make sure that the goblins’ records match what _should_ be in the vaults, but not until he’s settled in his mind about all of this. He was quite shocked at the amount of pocket money he receives, so I can only imagine how he’ll take this sudden inheritance.’

He bowed to her wisdom, but Lucius was honestly more concerned with one particular item in the will--an Invisibility Cloak. He found it curious that James Potter should have gone out of his way to mention it, as an Invisibility Cloak that would last long enough to be passed on was very, very rare, and the chances were that by now, it would have lost its enchantment and be worthless to Harry. James was undoubtedly aware of that, as all buyers and enchanters of Invisibility Cloaks were, so Lucius was suspicious that perhaps this particular cloak was a little more powerful than the average cloak. The last thing he needed was for Draco to get hold of the thing….

_Please let Dumbledore not have it, please let Dumbledore not have it, please let Dumbledore not have it…._

For it was, indeed, Dumbledore who arrived at the arranged meeting at Gringotts, much to Rodnuk’s visible displeasure. Lucius quietly accepted his Sickle and very carefully did not rub it in by word or glance.

Dumbledore was in full-on twinkle mode, smiling kindly at Harry where he sat at the conference table with a grandfatherly air, ignoring Lucius completely. He’d expected the boy to react as most children did--with awe and admiration, with perhaps a touch of confusion at the old man’s absent-mindedness.

To his surprise, Harry frowned at Dumbledore, his green eyes darkening with something like disapproval. If Dumbledore was as surprised as Lucius, he didn’t show it.

‘Harry, my boy, so good to finally see you again,’ he said, his voice perfectly balanced with kindness, sorrow, and sympathy. ‘You’ve grown quite a bit since our last meeting. I suppose you wouldn’t remember me, as you were just a baby at the time--I’m Albus Dumbledore. I was a friend of your parents.’

Lucius was not fooled, and he didn’t miss the way Dumbledore’s eyes raked over the boy, searching for--signs of abuse, maybe? Dark magic? He didn’t know, but he didn’t like it.

However, he didn’t need to step in and say anything, because Harry was obviously not fooled, either. It made Lucius feel rather smug and proud.

‘Hello, Professor,’ Harry said coldly. ‘I know who you are.’

His expression and tone were not overtly hostile, but he remained rather stiff and remote, giving off clear ‘back off’ signals.

‘Ah, well, then we needn’t waste time with introductions,’ Dumbledore replied cheerfully, his twinkle growing stronger. ‘I am told you wish to have the belongings your parents left to you. They gave them to me for safekeeping, you understand.’

He’d leaned closer as he said that, lowering his voice conspiratorially, as though they were friends sharing a great secret. Harry reared back, and if Lucius wasn’t very much mistaken, he formed an expression that might have been an attempt at Lucius’s patented pure-blood sneer. Draco had tried it several times, to much better effect, as he had the face for it, but Lucius mentally gave Harry points for effort. Besides, being brave enough to even try to sneer at Dumbledore, of all people, was worthy of applause. He was actually tempted to take Harry to Fortescue’s for ice cream after this, just to reward him for the sight of Dumbledore looking flabbergasted.

‘I understand,’ Harry said flatly. ‘May I have them back now? I’m missing my lessons.’

Dumbledore backed off a little, and neatly sidestepped the question. Rodnuk was growing impatient, though, so Lucius knew he couldn’t put it off for much longer.

‘Your lessons?’ he said with affected surprise, raising his eyebrows. ‘What kind of lessons are the Malfoys giving you? Have they hired you a tutor?’

He glanced at Lucius, who tightened his grip on his cane and resisted the urge to speak up. He was trying to avoid giving Harry any cues so that Dumbledore would see that the boy wasn’t being coerced--it wasn’t likely to convince him of anything, but he didn’t want to give the old man any excuses for taking Harry away. He knew even now the blasted, manipulative old wizard was expecting Harry to reply with a list of Dark rituals or some such nonsense.

Harry’s hostility lessened under the weight of his obvious confusion. ‘A tutor?’ he repeated, scrunching his nose. ‘No, Cousin Lucius and Narcissa teach me and Draco themselves.’

His tone was earnest and innocent, and Lucius very much enjoyed Dumbledore’s _real_ surprise as he glanced his way.

‘Oh?’

 _Yes, you old bugger,_ Lucius mentally snarled. _Just because we’re wealthy doesn’t mean we’re willing to hand off our son’s education to someone else._

His father had done it to him, and it had taken a lot of work to catch up to where he should have been when he arrived at Hogwarts. He was determined that Draco wouldn’t have to go through the same thing.

‘Yes,’ Harry said, warming to his subject. ‘We learn maths and spelling, and lots of history, and how to speak in public, and all sorts of things. Lucius and Narcissa know _everything_ , or if they don’t they have books that can tell you it, and they’re very helpful even though I didn’t know how to write with a quill. They taught me how. They’re getting me all ready for Hogwarts,’ he added, beaming at Lucius.

 _Durmstrang,_ Lucius corrected, and then heaved a mental sigh, knowing it was useless. He’d already somewhat resigned himself to Draco and Harry’s attending Hogwarts, as Narcissa had, without coming out and saying it, given an unequivocal ‘no’ to Durmstrang.

Dumbledore was silent for a lot longer than was usual for him. Clearly, despite his spies doing their work, he hadn’t expected to come face to face with a healthy, happy Harry.

Still, he was an old hand at this game, and quickly recovered his benevolent smile.

‘Are you excited for Hogwarts, Harry?’ he asked kindly.

Harry nodded. ‘A little. I’m a little nervous, too, though. I want to do well. I don’t want to disappoint my family.’

Lucius’s breath caught, and he resisted the sudden, irrational urge to scoop Harry up and very firmly tell him that he could _never, ever_ disappoint them, and yes, they were his family. He resisted, but it took a great deal more effort than it should have.

Dumbledore’s smile widened. ‘I’m sure the Dursleys will be proud of you no matter--’

‘The _Dursleys_?!’ Harry very nearly shrieked, pulling back with a horrified expression. ‘They would never be proud of me--they were angry with me if I made Dudley look bad in school. They’re not my family anymore, anyway--I meant the Malfoys. Draco says that they were both really good in Hogwarts, and I wouldn’t want to shame them by getting poor marks.’

Lucius couldn’t hold his tongue then, despite Dumbledore’s glare. ‘You won’t get poor marks, Harry,’ he assured him firmly. ‘You’ll be ready, when the time comes.’

Harry smiled, relaxing a little, and Dumbledore cleared his throat at the same time as Rodnuk.

‘Can we move this along?’ the goblin demanded irritably. ‘I do have other things to do.’

Dumbledore smiled benignly. ‘Yes, of course, of course.’

He removed a tiny box from his inner robe pocket and expanded it, much to Harry’s delight. The boy curiously eyed the box, poking it tentatively once Dumbledore had set it on the table, as though he expected it to retract again. The old man chuckled at Harry’s curiosity and carefully opened the lid.

‘Some of this your parents entrusted to me before they went into hiding,’ he said, still smiling but his tone sorrowful now. ‘Some of it was retrieved from the remains of the house. Not everything they put in the will could be salvaged, I’m afraid.’

Lucius felt a twinge on Harry’s behalf, but also some relief at the idea that maybe, just _maybe_ , that Invisibility Cloak hadn’t made it….

‘Your mother wished you to have these books,’ Dumbledore continued, placing three volumes on the table and sliding them toward Harry. ‘I believe they are Muggle books, possibly, as I’ve never heard of them.’

Harry looked at them with open curiosity. Lucius ground his teeth at the idea of having Muggle books _inside_ Malfoy Manor, and debated telling Harry he’d have to throw them away--but then, it wasn’t a very big box, and what if that was all he had of his mother? As much as Lucius loathed the idea of anything Muggle soiling the property, and much as he didn’t like acknowledging Harry’s half-blood nature, the fact of the matter was that his mother had been born of Muggles, so it was natural that there would be some ties to that world. He frowned fiercely and tried to put it from his mind--if he didn’t acknowledge the books, then they didn’t exist, and there was no quandary.

‘These belonged to your parents, and as they didn’t account for them in the will, I presume they wouldn’t mind you having them,’ Dumbledore said solemnly, and placed two wands in Harry’s hands.

The wands let out a few golden sparks, and Harry jumped, dropping them on the table.

Dumbledore smiled. ‘They know you, and they like you, Harry.’

He eyed the wands suspiciously, as though expecting them to go rolling off the table on their own, but he didn’t ask what Dumbledore meant. Lucius made a mental note to prepare to be bombarded with questions about wands. Perhaps a lesson on wands would be in order.

‘And this was your father’s. He gave it to me for safe keeping before he and your mother took you into hiding. Use it well,’ he added, twinkling madly.

And there it was--a blasted Invisibility Cloak. The fabric shimmered in the light as Harry took the folded cloak, running his hands over it wonderingly.

‘Use it well?’ he repeated to himself, as he often did when he was thinking something over.

Decisively, he unfolded the cloak and wrapped it around himself--his eyes shot wide and he scampered over to Lucius excitedly, twirling so that the invisible cloak made a breeze.

‘My body’s gone! I’m invisible, Cousin Lucius, look!’ he cried, grinning.

‘Except your head,’ Lucius pointed out dryly.

Harry’s grin widened. ‘Oh, right,’ he said sheepishly, and flipped the hood over his head, disappearing completely. ‘Wow!’

Dumbledore was plainly amused, but Lucius was filled with cold dread at the thought of all the many, _many_ kinds of trouble a pair of seven-year-old boys in possession of an Invisibility Cloak could get up to.

‘Harry,’ he said warningly.

Immediately, Harry’s head reappeared, on the other side of the room. He returned to his place and clumsily folded the cloak, looking chastised but still pleased.

‘Sorry,’ he said, a little breathlessly.

Lucius pursed his lips, and contemplated confiscating that, too.

‘Last but certainly not least, here are your Gringotts keys and certifications,’ Dumbledore said, handing them over with a flourish.

‘Finally!’ Rodnuk growled.

Harry took them and seemed pleased enough, but Lucius was disgusted. Rodnuk didn’t stick around for the rest of the conversation, having witnessed the keys changing possession--the wizards’ other quarrels were none of the goblins’ concern.

‘That’s all? That’s _all_ you have?’ he demanded tersely. ‘The will specified a _lot_ more than that.’

Dumbledore eyed him coldly as he shrank and tucked away the box. ‘As I said, there was much that could not be salvaged. You are welcome to go to Godric’s Hollow and check the site yourself, of course.’

Lucius felt the blood drain from his face at the idea--go to the spot where the Dark Lord had disappeared? Dumbledore looked smug, clearly reading Lucius’s fear.

‘It would take someone braver than Lucius Malfoy, wouldn’t it?’ he murmured--he’d won this round, and he knew it.

Lucius fumed silently.

Both of them had forgotten that Harry was here to participate this time.

‘Don’t you say that about my cousin!’ Harry shouted shrilly, quivering with childish rage. He’d leapt off his chair and was standing with his fists clenched, his face scrunched into a fierce, angry scowl. ‘He’s brave--braver than _you_!’

Dumbledore didn’t seem to know how to react, caught between amusement and annoyance, but he finally settled on a soft, ‘Oh?’

‘Yeah! He came to rescue me and you never did,’ Harry said stubbornly. ‘Thank you for my parents’ things, but I hope I don’t see you again! Draco told me you don’t like Malfoys--well, I don’t like you, you’re a rude old man!’

Lucius had the sublime pleasure of watching Dumbledore’s mouth drop open and hang there for a moment.

Harry was _definitely_ getting that ice cream.

.

\---------------

.

Harry thought he’d get in trouble for shouting at someone and being mean, but Dumbledore just said that he was sorry Harry felt that way and left. Lucius seemed inexplicably pleased as he helped gather up Harry’s things, and when they walked out of Gringotts, he paused on the steps and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

‘How would you like an ice cream?’ he asked quietly, that pleased smile still flickering around his lips, his eyes warm and dancing as Harry had never seen them.

He was very confused--he didn’t know what he’d done to make Lucius so happy, since it was wrong to shout at people and insult them--but like most little boys, he wasn’t about to pass up ice cream just because he didn’t know why it was being offered. Particularly since it would only be the second time he’d ever had it, the first being when Draco had asked for it for pudding one night, instead of a tart or pie like they usually had.

‘Oh, yes, please!’ he gasped excitedly.

Lucius’s smile widened, and he took Harry’s hand and led him back down the alley until they reached an ice cream parlour. He even seemed oblivious to all of the gawkers, although Harry didn’t know how he could be.

Harry chose a strawberry cone, and while Lucius didn’t buy one for himself--‘Me?’ he’d said, scrunching his nose and chuckling when Harry asked if he was having one--he did let Harry choose a table outside and sit watching the crowds pass by while he ate his cone. The weather was getting warmer, which reminded Harry that Draco’s birthday was right around the corner. He wasn’t sure how Lucius would react to the topic, since he acted like he was still angry with Draco most of the time, so he decided that he would have to ask Narcissa if she would buy Draco a present for him later. She didn’t often go shopping without Draco, but he figured she’d be making a trip sometime soon, since she couldn’t very well buy Draco’s presents in front of him. Aunt Petunia had always gone on three or four shopping trips in the month leading up to Dudley’s birthday, letting Dudley stay over at Piers’s and locking Harry in his cupboard.

It didn’t take long to eat the cone, since it was melting rapidly. Harry realised with dread that he’d got sticky pink melted ice cream all down his sleeve, and winced when he looked at Lucius. He was always getting in trouble for being messy and not looking presentable. He tried very hard to keep clean, like Draco (mostly) did, but it was a lot more difficult than it seemed like it should have been.

However, this time it appeared that whatever had put Lucius in a good mood was going to work in his favour, as his cousin merely drew his wand and flicked it at Harry’s robes, cleaning them instantly.

‘It must be summer,’ Lucius said almost cheerfully. ‘The ice cream is melting fast. Are you ready to go home?’

Harry grinned and nodded, a bit dazed by his good fortune. ‘Yes, sir.’

To his further astonishment, Lucius took his hand again and led him calmly through the crowd of gawkers that had gathered near the ice cream parlour. He didn’t even glare at them like he usually did. Harry was mystified.

Back home, Lucius escorted him back to his rooms, and Harry noticed him wincing slightly when he put his mother’s books on one of the shelves alongside the tattered paperbacks he’d brought from the Dursleys’, but he didn’t say anything, merely handing Harry the wands to put away.

‘Draco already knows he is not to touch any of our wands,’ Lucius said, ‘but I will ensure he knows not to touch your parents’ wands, either.’

Harry laid them reverently on the windowsill, thinking to himself that Draco would know better than to touch anything that had belonged to Harry’s parents. After his thoughtless comment about how stupid Gryffindors were, he’d been making an effort to be a lot more respectful to the Potters’ memory, and touching their wands would definitely not be respectful.

‘I can’t wait to show Draco _this_ ,’ he said instead, excitedly seizing the folded Invisibility Cloak. ‘He’s going to be so amazed! I wonder if--’

‘Harry.’

Lucius had never sounded--or looked--so serious before, and Harry fell silent as his cousin knelt before him, placing both hands on Harry’s shoulders. There was no hint of haughtiness or coldness about him, only solemn concern, and so Harry stared back at him and waited.

‘Harry, you can’t tell Draco about this cloak,’ Lucius said quietly.

His brow furrowed and he glanced down at it. ‘But I--’

‘Harry.’ Lucius’s fingers tightened briefly. ‘Harry, you cannot tell _anyone_ about this cloak. You must hide it away where no one will find it--not Draco, not Narcissa, not even me. Do you understand me?’

Harry frowned, shaking his head slightly. ‘Why not?’ he asked uncertainly.

He was a little scared of his cousin’s intensity, but he did understand that it meant Lucius was very, very serious about this. He just didn’t know why it mattered so much.

Lucius stared off into the distance for a moment, searching for words. ‘Do you remember when Narcissa read “The Tale of the Three Brothers” to you and Draco?’

Harry nodded quickly, brightening a little. ‘Oh, yes--I loved that one. It’s Draco’s third favourite.’

‘And you remember the cloak in the tale--how it hid one of the brothers from Death until he was ready to die?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry slowly, and looked down at the shimmering fabric wonderingly.

‘This cloak is-- _like_ that one,’ he said carefully. ‘It isn’t perfect protection--an enemy can still hear your movements and follow your scent, if you don’t use additional spells to mask them--but it does provide a large advantage over an enemy. However, if your enemy happens to know that you possess an Invisibility Cloak, that advantage is gone. The fewer people who know about this cloak, the safer you are.’

‘But Draco wouldn’t tell anyone,’ Harry protested innocently. ‘He’s my cousin, and we’re friends!’

Lucius’s expression turned pained, but he attempted a smile that didn’t fool Harry at all.

‘Yes, but just because Draco wouldn’t purposely tell anyone doesn’t mean they couldn’t find out from him,’ he explained. ‘There are potions that can compel people to tell secrets, and there are wizards who can read other wizards’ minds.’

Harry’s eyes shot wide at that--he didn’t like the idea of that _at all_.

‘So just because Draco wouldn’t mean to tell, there are still ways for an enemy to find out your secrets from him.’

‘And the less he knows, the safer he is, too?’ Harry asked hopefully.

He didn’t want anyone to come after Draco just because they wanted to know about him!

Lucius nodded. ‘Most likely. It’s dangerous enough that Dumbledore and myself know about the cloak, Harry. Hide it away--hide it where you know no one will find it, tell no one where it is, and use it only when you must. Promise me, Harry.’

He looked down at the silky, shimmering fabric again, and then slowly nodded, meeting Lucius’s eyes steadily.

‘I promise, Cousin Lucius.’

Lucius immediately relaxed, one hand moving to the side of Harry’s head, his fingers ruffling Harry’s hair.

‘You’re a good boy, Harry,’ he murmured, and stood to leave.

Harry watched him go with a huge smile, nearly glowing with pride and happiness.

Lucius-- _Lucius, his hero_ \--thought he was a good boy. He’d been praised similarly by Narcissa before, but never by Lucius. A part of Harry that had ached all his life eased, and for a moment, all was right with his world.

He didn’t want the good feeling to end, so he quickly did as he’d promised, tucking the cloak away in the same hiding place where he kept his money. Draco had never found it, although Dobby told him he’d tried, when Harry was in the bathroom, so he figured it must be a pretty good hiding spot. Dobby had assured him that he and the other house elves wouldn’t touch it, either, so it was safe on that front, too. After a moment’s thought, Harry put the keys and papers Dumbledore had given him there, too. Lucius hadn’t specified what he should do with them, but he’d already pretty much said that he trusted Harry not to lose them, and Harry had no intention of violating that trust.

After everything was tucked away safely in his hiding place, he returned to the sitting room and climbed onto the window seat, eyeing his parents’ wands thoughtfully. He had a lot of questions about them--the first one being _why did they shoot sparks the moment I touched them??_ \--but he was more preoccupied with thinking about Dumbledore right then.

The old man had seemed very kind, and he was clearly fond of Harry, and a part of Harry had rather wanted to like him. He was sort of how Harry had always envisioned his grandfather would look, if he’d met either of them while they were alive. He’d half-expected to be offered a sweetie any second. His concern for Harry had been fairly clear, both in his eyes and his questions about Harry’s classes.

Still, his assertion that the Dursleys were Harry’s family had rankled, and that on top of the knowledge that Dumbledore hated the Malfoys had been enough to put Harry off. Dumbledore’s comment about Lucius’s lack of bravery had made Harry nearly implode with rage, his vision darkening and his body trembling with anger that he felt powerless to actually use against the old wizard. He’d known even as he was shouting at Dumbledore that it was wrong, but he’d been afraid of unleashing more accidental magic and maybe hurting someone, so he’d let his anger out with each word instead. Briefly, Harry considered sending Dumbledore an apology note--the Malfoys had an owl, and he knew that even if they didn’t agree with him, they would let him send it--but a part of him wasn’t really sorry. In fact, he’d been just a little bit pleased with himself, for a minute, when Dumbledore stared at him with utter shock.

 _No one_ insulted Lucius, not to Harry’s face, not even obliquely, as Dumbledore had.

‘There you are!’ Draco shouted, and a bare second later, he was tackling Harry in a fierce hug, as though Harry had been gone for two years, rather than two hours.

Harry grunted at the feeling of his ribs being squished, but couldn’t help a smile at the enthusiastic greeting. Dudley had certainly never been happy to see him; the pain was worth it, for the first minute, at least.

‘Air, Draco,’ Harry gasped when it went on a bit too long.

Draco released him immediately, grinning from ear to ear and bouncing on the window seat beside him.

‘I missed you! Mother made me work on my studies while you were gone, and it was boring. I can’t wait to not be grounded anymore, I’m tired of only being allowed to be in your room or mine or in Mother’s study or the dining room or the kitchen. Did you bring me anything? Was it scary? What did you think of the goblins? Were you freaked out? What did you get from Dumbledore? What are those? Are those your parents’ wands? What are they made of? Father’s is cedar and dragon heartstring, and Mother’s is applewood and unicorn hair. Grandfather has the Malfoy family wand, which will be Father’s someday, and mine someday after that, and it’s elm and dragon heartstring. Do you think you’ll use your father’s or your mother’s? Or will you get your own for Hogwarts?’

Harry blinked, dumbfounded; he didn’t think Draco had paused for a single breath. Even now, his cousin was bouncing and fidgeting beside him, swinging his feet and thunking his heels against the wall.

‘Um…I didn’t bring you anything, sorry,’ he began slowly. ‘The goblins were all right. As long as you don’t make eye contact or stand too close, so they don’t glare at you, I mean.’

Draco nodded rapidly, his head bobbling comically.

‘Yeah, these are my parents’ wands. I got them and a few Muggle books my mum wanted me to have, and my Gringotts keys, I mean, and that was it,’ Harry said much more quickly, feeling a twinge at lying to Draco, even if it was for safety reasons.

‘That’s not much,’ Draco said, frowning, and pausing for a whole second in his restless motions.

‘Well, I don’t know what’s in the vaults,’ Harry admitted. ‘There might be more in them. I’m not allowed into two of them, and Lucius says I shouldn’t touch any of the money in the one I _am_ allowed in, just in case I need it someday.’

Draco rolled his eyes, snorting. ‘Mother says Father’s paranoid. Just think of how much you could buy with even a few hundred Galleons!’

Harry tried to hide his frown at that as he opened the drapes, letting in the early afternoon light. He was disturbed to see Abraxas out on the terrace, looking up at his window, but he left the drapes open anyway. Perhaps Abraxas wasn’t really looking at _his_ window--it was hard to tell, from this distance.

He didn’t think Lucius was paranoid, but he didn’t feel like arguing with Draco. Every time Lucius explained why he should or shouldn’t do something, it always made perfect sense to Harry. He was actually beginning to wish he could think of everything that _could_ happen, the way Lucius did, so he wouldn’t be caught off-guard if something awful were to happen.

‘I don’t know what my parents’ wands are made of,’ he said instead of replying to that. ‘Dumbledore didn’t say when he gave them to me. He just said that they liked me--they let out gold sparks when I touched them.’

Draco nodded, although he looked displeased about agreeing with Dumbledore. ‘That _is_ a good sign. You probably could use them, if you didn’t want to buy your own, when the time comes.’

Harry hadn’t really thought about that, until Draco brought it up. ‘I don’t know. I’ll probably ask Lucius what he thinks I should do.’

The annoyance about Dumbledore was immediately replaced with a bright grin. ‘That’s a good idea. Father knows all about that sort of thing, of course.’

He eyed Harry’s wands wistfully for a moment, but as Harry had suspected, he didn’t touch them, or even ask if he could, not even someday in the far future. He just looked at them for a moment and then turned away, back toward Harry.

‘Do you want to play now? I don’t think I could read another word without my head melting,’ he whined, pouting exaggeratedly.

Harry had really wanted to do a little studying himself, but he felt bad that Draco had been cooped up for so long, and still had so long to go before his punishment would be over. It had to be driving him crazy--Draco liked to get out and run around, at least around the playroom if the weather prohibited going outside, but Lucius had very firmly forbidden him from setting foot in the playroom until after he was no longer grounded.

‘Sure, okay,’ Harry agreed, smiling, and went to fetch a few toys from the playroom while Draco cavorted around his sitting room, whooping with glee.


	8. Several Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius meets with Severus; Harry talks to Narcissa; Dumbledore meets with his selected members of the Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is primarily a bridge between the previous chapter and the next, so please excuse its seeming uselessness. Note the prejudices warning, as always, and please do enjoy yourselves. :) Feedback is, as always, extremely welcome.

Narcissa had agreed to stay near the boys’ rooms while he was gone, so Lucius couldn’t think of an excuse not to go. This wasn’t a trip he _wanted_ to make--it was bad enough he already felt he owed the slimy half-blood for his cooperation with them thus far. Plus, Hogwarts was, as far as Lucius was concerned, the domain of the enemy. However, there was no way he was going to even _attempt_ this task on his own--and he certainly wasn’t going to ask the wolf to come with him.

Severus was sitting with tea and a book, his feet propped up, when Lucius Floo-called into his quarters, and he didn’t look up despite his flames suddenly turning green and getting louder.

‘Severus,’ Lucius said sharply.

He jerked, spilling tea down his front and dropping his book. Muttering a curse, he quickly vanished the tea and glared at Lucius--who was trying very hard not to laugh.

‘Malfoy,’ Severus sneered. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

Lucius’s amusement bled back into annoyance, as always when dealing with these _lesser beings_. Honestly, none of them had a shred of manners.

‘If you’d invite me through, I would tell you,’ he huffed in his most put-upon tone.

Severus rolled his eyes. ‘Come through, then. Idiot.’

Lucius stepped out of the flames and quickly vanished the soot from his person, shooting Severus a sour look.

‘There’s no need for name-calling, Severus.’

‘Eh?’ Severus blinked, and then grinned. ‘Oh, that. “Idiot” is my password.’

Lucius stared at him, wondering if all half-bloods were obliged to be this crazy, and then shook his head of it. He was here on Harry’s behalf--the twisted inner workings of the half-bloods were not his concern.

‘I’ve just come from the meeting with Dumbledore,’ Lucius began.

‘I’m aware,’ Severus interrupted dourly. ‘I have been summoned to a meeting this evening. Apparently, he was displeased with the results.’

Lucius glared at his continued rudeness, but made no comment, instead settling himself on the edge of an armchair--rather pointedly, as Severus had not offered him a seat.

Severus seemed unperturbed by both glare and pointed gesture.

‘I should say not,’ Lucius said, smiling faintly at the memory. ‘Harry rather fiercely scolded him.’

Severus’s brows rose and he sat up straight. ‘That little mouse you’re raising? I don’t believe it.’

He snorted. ‘Harry is only a mouse around _you_ because you make him nervous,’ he said disapprovingly. ‘He’s much more lively when you’re not around. Even the wolf gets him to talk.’

Severus set aside what was left of his tea and relaxed back into the sofa with a shrug. ‘Lupin bribes him with childhood tales of his father. I bribe no child, as I have no need of their affections.’

‘Except Draco, naturally,’ Lucius drawled.

He would never forgive Severus for training Draco to expect a box of sweets every other visit.

He winced a little at that. ‘Draco is a special case,’ he said defensively.

Lucius let it pass, refusing to be distracted from his mission. ‘Nevertheless, I must ask you to muster a little care for Harry.’

Severus had no comment for that, his mouth snapping shut as he regarded Lucius with open surprise.

‘I will pay you, if necessary,’ Lucius added, uncertain how to interpret that response.

His dark eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his wiry body suddenly still and tense.

‘What do you wish of me?’ he asked softly, warily.

Lucius drew a slow, calming breath. ‘I wish you to accompany me, tonight, after your meeting. Preferably after nightfall, when we’re less likely to be observed.’

Severus’s eyes narrowed further, until they were mere slits. ‘Where are we going and what are we doing?’

He swallowed, trying to hide his nerves. ‘We’re going to do a bit of reconnaissance, and hopefully recover some of Harry’s belongings.’

‘Where?’ Severus pressed, his voice so gentle, so velvety, that Lucius was aware that he was in danger of being hexed.

He took another breath. ‘Godric’s Hollow,’ he whispered.

His eyes darted anxiously after he said it, but Severus just stared at him, his eyes slightly wide now, the tension leaking from his frame.

‘Godric’s Hollow,’ he repeated emotionlessly. Then his head tilted, and he said wonderingly, ‘Why would you want to go there?’

Lucius shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’ve already told you. Will you come with me or not? I….’ He paused. ‘I don’t think I can go alone.’

It hurt to admit, after Harry’s childish yet impassioned defence of his bravery. He found that he never wanted Harry to think of him as a coward--the very thought made him feel ashamed.

But he was no Gryffindor, and he never would be. He couldn’t bring himself to go to Godric’s Hollow by himself.

Severus pursed his lips. ‘Why not take Narcissa with you?’

‘And leave the boys alone with my father?!’ Lucius sputtered. ‘Are you mad?! Perhaps you should spend less time breathing in cauldron fumes,’ he added, snarling contemptuously.

Severus seemed to find his ire amusing, rather than insulting. ‘Ah, true. That old bastard would be doing the world a favour if he decided to croak tomorrow.’

‘Or today,’ Lucius said bitterly.

‘That works, too,’ he agreed flippantly. ‘All right, so you can’t take Narcissa, and you won’t go alone--why must you go at all? Surely Harry received the bulk of his inheritance in today’s meeting.’

Lucius frowned. ‘The bulk of it is in the vaults, yes, but…there are a few material items that…Harry might like to have,’ he said, slightly strained as he struggled not to give away the sentiment behind this mission. ‘If they can be salvaged. If they’re still there, after all this time.’

Severus quietly watched him, and Lucius knew he’d failed to hide all of the emotion driving this desire to go. He looked away under the guise of sneering at Severus’s insistently black decorations and furnishings.

‘Lucius.’

He looked up reluctantly. Severus’s expression was unreadable--he only got a sense of urgency that he didn’t understand.

‘Does Narcissa know of your intention to do this?’ he asked solemnly.

‘Of course.’

‘Does she approve?’

Lucius squirmed a little, stilled himself with an effort. ‘Not…exactly,’ he hedged.

In truth, she’d spent a half hour trying to convince him of the fruitlessness of such a gesture.

‘As touching as it is,’ she’d said over his protests that it wasn’t to do with anything but Dumbledore’s slight against his courage, ‘that you want to do this for Harry, there isn’t likely to be anything left. If it could have been salvaged and wasn’t at the time, then it’s probably been long stolen by looters and trophy hunters. Besides, think of the possible dangers! What if it wasn’t Harry, but some magical object on the premises that made the Dark Lord vanish? Or what if there are members of Dumbledore’s group standing guard?’

Narcissa was more than a little annoyed with him for failing to heed any of these perfectly reasonable statements. Lucius could hardly explain it to himself--it just felt like something he needed to do, despite all of the very logical reasons he should not. It was unlike him, and the recklessness of it was making him jumpy.

Severus frowned. ‘And yet you’re here.’

Lucius thumped his cane against the floor and threw himself out of the chair, standing straight and scowling fiercely.

‘She’s my wife, not my master,’ he snapped. ‘Are you willing to accompany me or not? Name your price.’

That brought Severus up short with surprise yet again, but he recovered a little more quickly this time.

‘I thought I had made it clear that money was not to come into my association with Harry,’ he grumbled. ‘That’s not why I’m helping you.’

Lucius would have pressed him to find out why under other circumstances, but at the moment he didn’t care.

‘Fine,’ he said, his voice strangled with the force of his anger and nerves and--whatever was making him want to do this. ‘Fine, I’ll go alone, then.’

Even though it terrified him that he might vanish, too. Even though his skin was crawling just saying the words.

Severus made a frustrated noise. ‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t go. I think you’re being ridiculous, but I’ll go with you. Narcissa would have my hide if I let you go alone and you came back a gibbering wreck.’

Lucius scowled, but felt a great deal calmer knowing he’d have backup.

‘I wouldn’t be a gibbering wreck,’ he muttered sullenly.

‘All right. If you swooned, then, like the delicately-bred flower you are,’ Severus said calmly, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Lucius rolled his eyes. ‘I’m leaving now. Come to the manor after nightfall.’

‘Yes, sir,’ came the mocking reply.

He snorted and moved to the fireplace. ‘Half-blood fleabag,’ he grumbled, just loud enough for Severus to hear.

‘Pure-blood poofter,’ Severus replied cheerfully, just before the Floo carried him back home.

.

\-------------------

.

That night, Harry finally got a chance to talk to Narcissa, as Draco was sent to have another bath before bed, due to his faking the first bath. Draco liked to be clean, so this was unusual for him--all Harry could figure was that he’d found something more interesting to do while he was supposed to be bathing. This meant there wasn’t time for a story, and he and Narcissa were alone for a while when she came to tuck him in.

‘Narcissa?’ he said tentatively as she fluffed his pillows and fussed with his blankets.

‘Yes, Harry?’

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘I’m sure you’re capable,’ she responded teasingly, the skin around her eyes crinkling as she smiled.

Harry rolled his eyes, but wasn’t able to keep from smiling back. ‘ _May_ I ask you something?’

‘Yes, you may. What is your question?’

He bit his lip, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. It wasn’t likely that Narcissa would refuse _part_ of his request, so he took a deep breath and steeled his courage, looking up at her through his fringe.

‘Are you going shopping for Draco’s birthday soon?’ he asked, his voice timid despite his best efforts.

She raised a brow, sitting beside him and resting a hand on his knee. ‘Yes, I’m going tomorrow. Draco thinks I’m going to a tea party. Lucius will be staying here and _out_ of his study to watch both of you. Why?’

‘Well…. I was just wondering…if I gave you some money, would you buy a present for Draco from me?’

Narcissa smiled, seeming amused now that he’d finally articulated what he wanted. ‘Better yet, why don’t you come with me and pick it out yourself? I’m sure Draco and Lucius wouldn’t mind a little time together, and I feel like I haven’t had you all to myself in ages,’ she added, ruffling his perpetually messy hair with a grin.

She had slowly come to accept that Harry’s hair would never behave and spent half of the time smoothing his hair and the other half ruffling it up again. He smiled and leaned into the affectionate gesture, and secretly he was relieved, because her offer to come along put off the other part of his question. That was a battle all on its own, because Narcissa and Lucius had already made it very, very, _very_ clear that they didn’t want Draco to have the gift Harry had in mind.

He would worry about that tomorrow.

‘I’d like that,’ he said shyly. ‘But won’t Draco be suspicious about me going to a tea party with you?’

‘I’ll tell him it’s for your pure-blood training, and anyway, he wouldn’t want anything to do with a tea party regardless of who was attending,’ she said, looking slightly long-suffering.

He knew she wished both he and Draco would be more sophisticated and interested in the socialite side of life. Harry tried--really, he did--but he found it easier to force himself to attend to his studies even though he didn’t want to than to put on his most formal robes and bow to invisible wizards, pretending he was at a ball. Even the idea of a ball made him itch, and he was dreading having to attend his first, someday, with every fibre of his being.

‘But we’ll tell Lucius where we’re really going, won’t we?’ he asked worriedly as the thought occurred.

He wouldn’t lie to Lucius.

Narcissa’s smile grew tender. ‘Of course we will, darling. I’ll tell him first thing in the morning that you’ve decided you’d like to come with me.’ She leaned over and planted a quick kiss on his forehead. ‘Now to bed with you. We’ll be leaving fairly early, and you need your rest.’

Harry grinned and immediately wriggled down into the covers.

‘Good boy. I love you, Harry. Sweet dreams.’

‘I love you, too, Narcissa,’ he sighed contentedly.

.

\-------------------------

.

Dumbledore felt very old as he looked at his assembled team of trusted Order members. It seemed to be one bit of bad news after the other, lately. First, Harry goes missing, only to turn up with the Malfoys. Then, before his agents can do anything to prevent it, Lucius Malfoy obtains temporary custody of Harry, protected by the Ministry from interference. Not only that, but Lucius also has a healer submit evidence for the investigation into the Dursleys, evidence which Alastor had managed a peek at.

‘It’s pretty damning, Albus,’ he’d said grimly before the others arrived and the meeting formally began. ‘I didn’t see the whole thing, but what I saw at least convicts them of starving the boy.’

That had not comforted Dumbledore in the slightest--guilt weighed heavily on him, now. Arabella had assured him the Dursleys were looking after the boy, and after his letter to Petunia, imploring and threatening her by turns to care for the boy like her own son, he’d been so sure….

He did care for Harry, and it pained him to know that the boy had been mistreated because of where Dumbledore had had to send him, for his safety. He ought to have checked up on them personally, reinforced his message face to face. Perhaps Petunia might have taken him more seriously if he’d spoken with her himself, impressing on her Harry’s importance.

And that on top of the knowledge that that boy was their only hope of defeating Voldemort, when he inevitably made his return--somehow. He _would_ find a way, Dumbledore was certain. Tom had always been persistent. It was one of his few admirable qualities.

But worst of all was today.

‘I believe I now know the Malfoys’ motive in abducting Harry,’ he said quietly.

That got their immediate attention, Arthur straightening in his seat and Remus and Severus looking up from whatever they’d been brooding over. Kingsley and Alastor had already been watching him, but their gazes sharpened.

He heaved a sigh, tugging at his beard. ‘I previously thought Lucius had taken him for some Dark ritual, likely in an effort to resurrect his master. I no longer believe this to be the case. After today’s meeting, I think it quite plain that Lucius is brainwashing young Harry.’

Arthur let out a shocked noise. ‘ _Brainwashing_ him? How? Why?’

Dumbledore frowned sadly. ‘The particulars are beyond me, but it seems that they are teaching him in the old pure-blood ways, moulding him in their own prejudiced mindsets. It seems likely that they wish to train him as a weapon for the Death Eaters, in their master’s absence. Possibly, they believe he is more powerful than Tom, and may even wish to use the boy as protection, should he return displeased with them.’

‘Would that work?’ Alastor growled.

‘I do not know,’ he said tiredly. ‘It seems unlikely, unless Tom were to return in a weakened state.’

Severus remained utterly still in the shadows, his dark eyes glittering, but now his thin lips moved. ‘What has led you to believe that they are brainwashing the boy, Albus?’

Dumbledore resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. He’d been hoping to avoid mentioning that.

‘I lightly insulted Lucius’s honour,’ he admitted slowly, ‘and the boy reacted…rather strongly in Lucius’s defence.’

Arthur, Alastor and Kingsley frowned deeply at this. Remus, however, had returned to staring at the wall and chewing his lip. Severus continued to stand motionless, but the glitter of his eyes almost seemed to increase. Dumbledore was troubled by their seeming lack of reaction, but decided to merely keep an eye on them for the moment. Severus had a tendency to grow mysterious when thinking something over, and Remus could simply be tired--he hadn’t yet asked for relief from his duties patrolling around Malfoy Manor. Still, if it continued, it would be cause for concern.

‘Albus, I, erm…I don’t mean to doubt your word,’ Arthur spoke up again, hesitantly. ‘I’m sure you know what you saw. But…isn’t it possible that the Malfoys _aren’t_ brainwashing Harry?’

Dumbledore frowned deeply--he hadn’t expected dissent from _that_ quarter.

‘What are the odds of that?’ Alastor snapped. ‘There’s nothing those Malfoys won’t stoop to. It’s a surer bet that they’re using Dark objects to mess with his mind than simple brainwashing.’

‘Well, maybe, but….’ Arthur shoved up his glasses, shifting his legs nervously. ‘But suppose you were a seven-year-old boy--wouldn’t you be fond and, well, protective of a man who took you away from a place where you were keenly unhappy? And even more so if that man were kind to you and cared for you?’

‘Provided for you,’ Kingsley corrected. ‘A more apt choice of words, most likely.’

Dumbledore silently agreed. Lucius Malfoy cared for no one and nothing, only himself, and power. Still, he took a moment to ponder Arthur’s words, after incorporating Kingsley’s correction.

‘No,’ he said carefully, ‘I think not. It’s a possibility, Arthur, but I find it unlikely. Lucius wants a potentially powerful ally--if he _is_ kind toward the boy, it’s in the interest of making certain that his brainwashing techniques take. No, I believe very firmly that Lucius is moulding a weapon, not raising a child.’

Arthur merely frowned, but he didn’t protest again.

‘This new angle makes it more imperative than ever that we get Harry away from the Malfoys,’ Dumbledore went on, changing to a more authoritative tone so that they would know that the time for discussion was past. ‘He must not be corrupted and turned to the Death Eaters’ cause.’

‘Of course not,’ Kingsley agreed quickly, and Alastor nodded firmly.

To Dumbledore’s dismay, they were the only ones to so quickly and firmly agree. Arthur still appeared to be troubled, and Remus was barely paying attention. Severus hadn’t shifted even a hair, as remote and unreadable as a statue.

‘I want you to gather together any scraps of anything you can find that would work against the Malfoys as permanent guardians. When this investigation is complete, that’s what the next step will be. We need to find out what the standards are, and find evidence of every way in which the Malfoys do _not meet_ that standard.’

‘Understood,’ Kingsley said.

‘We’ll find out what we can,’ Alastor added.

The others remained silent, and Dumbledore was very troubled as he dismissed them to their missions.

He couldn’t afford to lose his supporters now, not with Harry--and by extension, the very war against Voldemort--hanging in the balance. It occurred to him that Lucius might be getting to them magically, without their notice, and made a mental note to set up detection wards before the group’s next meeting.


	9. Godric's Hollow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Lucius undertake their mission to Godric's Hollow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING**  
>  There is a brief mention of an infant's death, from the parent's point of view. If this bothers you, you may want to skip this chapter, or tread carefully and skip a few paragraphs when you get to the empty crib--that's where it starts.
> 
> Oh, and of course, the Potters are dead and our Dynamic Duo is exploring the house where they died, so if _that_ bothers you, you may also want to skip this chapter.
> 
> Lucius is still quite prejudiced, and as he's accompanied by half-blood Severus, it's a foregone conclusion that some of his thoughts won't be very PC....
> 
> Feedback of any variety is always welcome. This chapter is a bit heavy, I think, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

‘I don’t think the bush is going to bite you.’

Lucius glared at the back of Severus’s head. The slimy half-blood had been a study in calm ever since he arrived at the manor, but there was an undercurrent of tension in both of them. It was making Severus dry and snappish; it was making Lucius jumpy, as evidenced by his nearly-catastrophic leap just now to avoid an attack from what turned out to be nothing more than a decorative shrub, its branches flailing wildly in the wind.

‘Is there a reason we had to Apparate to the edge of town and walk to the house?’ he demanded rather than responding to that comment, his voice a little higher and more shrill than he would have liked.

‘It’s a small enough town that that’s the only Apparation point,’ Severus said flatly, without looking back.

For whatever reason, Severus had been to Godric’s Hollow before--he had not cared to explain when or why--and so he’d taken point on their ill-advised journey. Lucius had already decided he didn’t like following Severus, partly because he kept closed-mouthed on important subjects like directions to the house, and ‘watch out for the hole’ (Lucius had _not_ enjoyed Apparating over a hole, instead of the ground, but Severus had been highly amused, particularly since he hovered above the hole for a second before falling in), and partly because the back of Severus’s head was just as greasy and unpleasant to look at as the front.

‘But apparently not small enough to keep us from having to walk for ages, and--’

‘It’s right there.’

Lucius’s mouth snapped shut, and he realised that they were standing before a two-storey cottage, just outside the gate. Well, it had been two-storey, anyway--the upper floor was mostly blown away, the blackened tatters of the roof flapping in the wind at the edges of the great, gaping hole at one end.

_Harry did that,_ Lucius thought, and shivered.

Severus was putting away his wand--it disturbed Lucius to realise that he hadn’t even noticed him doing anything.

‘Wards,’ Severus said shortly, by way of explanation.

Lucius snorted and took that to mean that he’d been disabling them, or somehow masking their presence from them.

‘Are we just going to stand here and look at it, then?’ he asked dryly.

‘I should have offered to pay you to keep your mouth shut,’ Lucius grumbled, and cautiously opened the gate.

Severus followed him through stiffly, quietly latching the gate behind them. They both drew their wands again, as something about standing in the wildly overgrown front garden made their senses prickle, and Severus had nothing snotty to say this time when he and Lucius exchanged a glance. It was an odd feeling, like something was watching them.

Lucius shook it off with an effort, dismissing it as his nerves playing with his imagination, and carefully picked his way through the shorter grass that marked the crumbling flagstones. The wind whipping the neglected bushes and lawn made it impossible to hear Severus following, so he indulged in keeping tabs on the other wizard’s magic, making static at the edge of his consciousness, to reassure himself that he was there.

There was no door, just a gaping maw where the Dark Lord had blasted it off its hinges. Or possibly worse, Lucius realised, as when he lit his wand and stood in the entry way, there was no sign of any shrapnel from the door’s existence. There were black, sooty smears on the walls, marring the peeling wallpaper.

‘No water damage,’ he murmured, and cringed at how his voice seemed to echo in the empty house.

‘There are wards to protect the house from the weather,’ Severus explained, his voice also seeming loud and disruptive, despite the fact that he’d spoken barely above a whisper.

Lucius nodded his understanding and slid further into the building, setting his feet down slowly and carefully so as to reduce the noise--and to avoid stepping on…anything. He knew intellectually that any bodies or… _parts_ of bodies had been removed long ago, but his stomach tightened and rolled at the thought of it anyway.

He could hear the wind howling in the damaged upper reaches of the house, distant down here in the sitting room--an eerie, lonesome sound in the darkened house.

The sitting room was mostly empty, the bookcases long cleared of their cargo, the few chests and cupboards gaping open, silently reproachful for the careless removal of their contents. There were a few scraps of paper, pieces of rubble to avoid on the rug, but nothing of value. Lucius poked around anyway, feeling vaguely guilty as he checked each nook and cranny that his keen eyes came across, hoping against hope to find some small knick-knack left behind by the former inhabitants.

Severus said nothing, standing with his lit wand in the doorway, but he did not join the search, further confirming that Lucius’s search, in this room at least, was fruitless. After a quarter of an hour, Lucius gave up and rejoined him with a nod. Severus returned the gesture and led the way down the hall.

He paused at the foot of the stairs.

‘What?’ Lucius whispered.

Severus gestured. ‘James Potter died right there,’ he said quietly, a wealth of conflicted emotions swimming deep under the calm surface of his tone.

Lucius’s eyes seemed drawn to that empty patch of floor by some outside force, and his breath caught as, for a moment, he thought he could see the shadow of a body before him, the spectre of James Potter’s spirit, perhaps, lingering faintly where he’d laid down his life in defence of his only son. He stepped around the spot with a swallow, forcing himself to breathe. It was a passing fancy, nothing more.

This house had him on edge.

They continued past the stairs, straight into the kitchens. These, too, had been thoroughly scoured by the Aurors--and, unfortunately but highly likely, by the looters who’d followed, as soon as the coast was clear. The only thing that seemed to remain was Muggle paper napkins, Muggle paper placemats, those odd Muggle utensils that weren’t made of wood or metal but rather the strange substance they seemed to use to make everything, and some Muggle paper plates, shoved into a wicker basket at the back of the pantry. There was a thin folded blanket in a blue and white chequered pattern underneath the basket.

‘Picnic basket,’ Severus said softly.

An echo of a child’s giggle seemed to come to Lucius then, and he slammed the pantry door shut with more force than he’d intended.

The sound made them both jump.

Severus glared at him, and he shrugged and dropped his eyes apologetically.

‘You don’t want to take it with you?’ Severus asked snidely.

_Not really,_ Lucius thought--but then, it might mean something to Harry. Unlikely, since he’d only been just over a year old when they died, but at least it was something that had belonged to his parents. So far, it was the only thing they’d found, and so he reluctantly reopened the pantry, cleaning and shrinking the basket and blanket with a few quick charms and tucking it away in a pocket. Hopefully, the Muggle utensils wouldn’t be ruined by the shrinking process.

Severus led the way through a narrow door beside the fireplace, into a cold aboveground cellar room. This room hadn’t been as thoroughly scoured--there were a few dusty jars on the shelves, a keg in the corner, a stack of boxes near the door.

‘Tomatoes,’ Severus said after blowing some of the dust off the jars. ‘No good now.’

Lucius bit his tongue on a snappish comment about stating the obvious. The keg had held water, once upon a time, but it was empty now. The boxes were filled with cheap, common dried herbs and potions ingredients, all of them long past the point of safe usability. But there was _one_ piece, lying on its side unnoticed behind the overlooked stack of boxes….

‘Is that _wine_?’ Severus asked, sneering with distaste.

He preferred his Firewhisky--further proof of his inferiority, in Lucius’s view. The man had no taste.

But the bottle in his hand was too great a find to ruin with such thoughts. He lovingly wiped the dust from the bottle with his sleeve--wizard’s wines were sensitive to magic. Even a cleaning spell on the bottle could spoil the flavour.

‘Yes, it’s wine,’ he murmured, a smile slowly curling his lips. ‘The Potters were great winemakers, about a hundred years ago. It only ended when a Potter son decided he didn’t want to bother with it and sold off the family’s vineyards to some French Muggles. I’d heard there were a few bottles left--I only had the privilege of tasting it once…. A fine sweet Sauternes.’

Severus blinked. ‘A what?’

Lucius sneered at him. ‘It’s a white wine. Philistine.’

A snort was the only response to that.

Lucius carefully tucked away the wine bottle, in a separate pocket from the shrunken picnic basket. The size and weight of it was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t shrink it or otherwise make it more comfortable without ruining the valuable wine inside, either, so he would simply have to put up with it.

‘I suppose you’re going to serve that at your next great dinner party,’ Severus drawled, shaking his head.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said as sharply as he dared in this environment. ‘This is far too good to waste on empty-headed Ministry lackeys and the more idiotic pure-bloods of my acquaintance. No, this wine is for Harry to keep in his vault, until he’s old enough to decide what he wishes to do with it.’

Severus was quiet at this pronouncement, apparently surprised, and led the way into the last room downstairs, back through the kitchen and across the hallowed spot at the foot of the stairs. Lucius hurried past it again and found himself in a den. There were two desks, long barren of their papers and gathering dust, and more empty bookshelves. A sofa and a loveseat were pressed close around the hearth, lending an impression of intimacy--an impression immediately banished by the empty, hollow feel of the house, and the faint howling of the wind.

It was somehow worse, here--looters or Aurors or someone had removed most of the furniture from the other rooms, but here, Lucius felt as though Mrs Potter could walk in at any moment, clearing away the dust and humming to herself, while Harry played on the rug in the corner. James would be working at the desk, of course.

He rubbed his arm and blinked away the image.

‘Aren’t you going to search here, too?’ Severus prompted after a moment.

Lucius shook his head silently. There was nothing here. Or if there was, he didn’t have the courage to disturb it.

Severus shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’ Then his expression tightened and his wand hand twitched. ‘Upstairs, then?’

He nodded tightly and they turned back. Both wizards took special care to skirt the spot where James’s body had lain--though it made little difference now. It still felt wrong to them, and Lucius hadn’t quite shaken the feeling of a lingering presence there, no matter how ridiculous he knew it to be.

The wards protected the house from weather, but not from age, and it had been six years since any had tread the steps. The stairs creaked loudly and unhappily at bearing their weight, making Lucius wince at each sound, although the oppressive silence was falling behind them, the mournful howling of the wind through the remains of the roof filling their ears.

There was a small landing at the top, with two doorways off of it. One was shut, and Severus curtly informed him that it led to the bathroom.

The other doorway was empty, the door having been blown to pieces, much like the door into the house. Severus led the way inside, and Lucius carefully eased into the room after him. It was odd to hear the wind through the tatters of the roof, to see pieces of it whipping and flapping, but not to feel the wind himself. The night was cloudy, so the sky through the hole was black.

Lucius abruptly realised that Severus had stopped moving and he stepped around him, frowning. The half-blood was staring at a spot on the floor, his face ashen and his lips drawn tight. The light from their wands cast odd shadows across his tensed facial muscles and furrowed brows, and it slowly dawned on him that Severus looked _pained_.

‘Severus?’ he prompted softly.

The last thing he needed was for his backup to have a nervous breakdown--that would be worse than if he’d come alone.

‘Lily,’ Severus said tersely.

Lucius blinked, and turned back to the spot. Lily was Harry’s mother. Mrs Potter--James’s Mudb--

No. Not here.

_Muggle-born_ wife.

She had apparently died there, right in front of Harry’s crib. Defending her child, unwittingly leaving him defenceless and alone in the world.

_Not anymore,_ Lucius thought quietly. _Your son isn’t alone anymore._

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he felt nothing. Unlike the spot where James had died, he felt no chilling sense of a lingering presence. Whether because of her origins or because she had died bravely, in one of the truest acts of love a mother could bestow, Lily Potter had left nothing of herself behind in this place.

Severus was still spellbound, wearing that tight expression of grief, and Lucius suddenly had an inkling about why he’d been so startled upon seeing Harry’s eyes-- _Lily’s eyes_. It made an odd sort of sense--more sense than James Potter’s attraction to the young woman, at any rate. Severus’s father had been a Muggle, not just a Muggle-born wizard, but a real, nonmagical _Muggle_ , and like was drawn to like.

Lucius moved away respectfully, into a corner away from the blackened destruction, to give Severus a few moments to mourn, but his eye was inexorably drawn back to the empty crib.

He didn’t do well with empty cribs.

He deliberately turned away, trying to swallow down the acid churning up his throat. It had been five years, but he still couldn’t handle it. He’d avoided any baby showers or related events ever since his and Narcissa’s last--failed--attempt at a second child. They had had so many attempts, before Draco, all of them stillbirths or miscarriages, but only two after. One was a miscarriage, and the other….

Lucius hadn’t named the boy, but he’d held him. For ten long hours, he’d held his only other living son close, whispering his love and reassurances as the faint flicker of life he’d been born with slowly faded.

The healers had pronounced shortly after the live birth that the boy was too weak to live, that there was nothing they could do. Narcissa, unable to bear this heartache after the many, many heartaches before it, had refused to see the baby, and as soon as she was recovered enough to see him, she’d sequestered herself with Draco instead, consoling herself with their only healthy son. Draco had been too young to really understand what was going on--he knew that he’d been told he was going to have a brother, but now he wasn’t, and his parents were upset, so Lucius and Narcissa had spent several weeks receiving crude drawings and handfuls of sweets and sloppy hugs and kisses as he tried his best to cheer them up.

They had stopped trying to conceive again after that, and he had even moved into his current quarters. Narcissa had not made even a token effort to stop him.

Lucius had taken it upon himself to close the nursery that had been so lovingly prepared, rather than leaving it to the house elves. He had left the crib for last--and in the end, he’d left it empty in the middle of the room, and closed and sealed the door.

Narcissa pretended it had never happened, refusing to discuss it, but he knew it was an ache deep inside her. It was part of the reason she’d welcomed Harry so quickly and easily--a balm for the old wound. The son who had almost been.

He had eventually been able to pretend that all of their pregnancies except Draco had ended in stillbirth or miscarriage, too, outwardly at least. Just not around empty cribs.

‘Lucius?’

Severus’s voice--only raised enough to be heard over the wind--made him jump, and he turned quickly, hoping his expression gave nothing away.

He examined Lucius seriously, and his voice was almost gentle when he asked, ‘Are you all right?’

Apparently, he’d been unsuccessful. He worked harder, drawing up as much haughty arrogance as he could muster, since a blank mask was evidently impossible at the moment.

‘Of course,’ he sniffed imperiously. ‘Are you quite finished gawping?’

Severus raised a brow and grunted.

Lucius chose to take that as a yes and turned away from the crib again, this time forcing himself back to the task at hand-- _away_ from old, painful subjects.

Much of the room was scorched or coated in the black soot from the explosion that had taken out a chunk of the far wall and a good deal of the roof. Oddly, Harry’s crib and the space of floor where his mother had died were largely untouched, an almost perfect circle around the entire area. When Lucius managed to pull himself together enough to focus, he realised that that space was also free of the almost oily aura that seemed to hang thickly in the air in the room. He shuddered when he recognised it as that of his former master’s; Severus was rubbing his left arm like it was bothering him, so he assumed the aura was real and he wasn’t just cracking from the circumstances.

Neither of them mentioned it.

The floor creaked dangerously when either of them stepped past the ‘safe’ space, weakened by the long-ago explosion, and Lucius used it as a perfect excuse to stay far away from that whole side of the room. Conveniently, that meant he had an empty bed to look at instead of an empty crib.

It was clear that the Aurors and Dumbledore’s lackeys had rummaged around up here, but the looters evidently hadn’t been brave enough to venture here, so there were more of the Potter’s belongings lying around. Broken picture frames lay on the floor, the photographs inside smeared irreparably with black soot. A few souvenirs from various places were scattered here and there, on the floor or atop surfaces that had once been neatly decorated--Harry’s mother had either had a fondness for crochet doilies, or she’d had a relative who was fond of giving them to people and hadn’t had the heart to throw them out. Books were lying open, most of their pages damaged with soot or water, or ripped out from the force of the explosion. There were Quidditch figurines (some of which Draco would have given his left arm for if they’d been in better condition) and knick-knacks that he couldn’t identify, probably Muggle items.

Nothing was intact. Everything had been damaged, either in the explosion itself, in the Auror investigation afterward, or by the weather before wards had been erected to protect all of it.

Sighing, Lucius began poking around in the Potters’ nightstands and armoire and chest of drawers, not expecting to find anything in any of them. To his surprise, the fear of the looters had left a few things. Some of it wasn’t worth taking--Lily had tucked a sewing kit and a little box of extra buttons in one of the lower drawers. An old ticket stub from a Chudley Cannons match lay on the floor of the armoire. In one of the nightstands was a stack of Chocolate Frog cards and a few empty wrappers.

In the other nightstand, though, he found a small treasure trove. Another Muggle book--one of Lily’s, probably. There was a tattered bookmark stuck about two-thirds of the way through. Beneath the book was a packet of photographs, both Muggle and wizard. After a glance at Severus (who was hovering near the crib), Lucius decided to indulge his curiosity and peeked through them. They appeared to be a mixture of ages as well, with some of them depicting either Lily or James or their friends as first- or second-years while others were either them as seventh-years or after they’d left school. Lucius didn’t particularly care for any of the people in the pictures, but he felt a warm glow in his middle at the thought of Harry seeing these. They would mean a lot to him.

There was only one photograph that Lucius chose to ‘accidentally’ drop--Narcissa’s cousin, Sirius Black, stood grinning and waving at the camera with one arm around a young Lupin’s shoulders. Lupin was smiling shyly. Lucius didn’t feel guilty about it at all--both boys made appearances in other pictures, but this was the only one where neither of his parents were in it as well. There was no need for Harry to see Black’s face any more than necessary.

Lucius did slip one other picture out of the packet and into his inner pocket, rather than into the same pocket with the picnic basket, as he did with the rest of them. Severus wasn’t watching (he checked), and he was feeling particularly emotional at the moment, given the creepy house and the wind and the empty crib taunting him from the other end of the room. He would just give it to Narcissa later, when he was recovered. It wasn’t a naked baby picture, so she wasn’t likely to be able to use it as blackmail material, but he was certain she would appreciate it nonetheless. Besides, it was unlikely that Harry would be interested in a photograph of himself as a baby, sitting on a blanket and giggling at the person behind the camera, his green eyes clear and bright, his forehead unmarred.

The rest of the room turned up nothing. Lucius was a little disappointed, although his pockets weren’t empty, as he’d feared when he decided on this little trip.

‘Are you finished?’ he demanded.

Severus was still hovering around the crib, and he only shot Lucius a glance, rather than answering. Lucius waited impatiently; he was beyond ready to leave. This hadn’t been a complete wasted venture, but the Dark Lord’s aura, the ceaselessly howling wind, and the sad, hollow house were getting to him. Between all of that and the memories it had dredged up, he was ready to go home and never come back.

To his surprise, rather than continuing to stare at the spot where Lily had died for Harry, Severus solemnly reached into the crib with both hands. He returned and held out his prize to Lucius.

‘Here,’ he said, and for once there was no mocking and sneering in his voice or expression, only sober respect for the items he held. ‘For Harry.’

Lucius cautiously accepted them, his stomach twisting unhappily at the reminder. One was a piece of the mobile that had once hung above the crib--a little Beater on a string, still feebly waving his bat, his cloak flapping to give the impression that he was flying. Lucius was impressed despite himself. Such spellwork generally only lasted two or three years.

The other was a small quilt, crumpled up either by Severus or an Auror who had been annoyed by the lack of clues in it. Lucius tucked the Quidditch player away and shook out the quilt. There was no aura on it, either, no lingering magical print--it had been made either by Muggles or by hand. He felt something rougher under his fingers as he folded it neatly, and he paused for a moment to look in the corner.

‘ _LP_ ’ was neatly embroidered in gold thread. Lily had made it herself. Because it was in the ‘safe’ space, it wasn’t sooty or moulding or otherwise damaged.

Lucius looked up at Severus, respectful despite himself. ‘Thank you.’

Severus gave a tight nod. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘You’ve never had a better idea.’

After ensuring that his treasures were all neatly tucked away and casting a ward around the wine bottle to protect it during Apparating, the two wizards crept back down the stairs and slunk out of the house and across the watchful garden. Severus quickly and silently replaced the wards he’d disabled.

With one last look at the house, they turned and slipped into the night.


	10. The Shopping Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucius returns with the spoils from Godric's Hollow, and Harry buys gifts, meets several new people, and hangs out with Dobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The views of the Malfoys do not represent my own. Or, in other words, note the prejudices tag. Although, since this entire chapter is from Harry's point of view, there isn't much of that this time.
> 
> Thank you to those of you who reviewed, you're absolutely lovely. :) Thank you to everyone for reading, of course, and I hope you continue to enjoy.
> 
> Remember that feedback of any kind is always welcome. :)

‘Harry gets to go, why can’t I go?! It’s not fair, Mother!’

Harry tried not to roll his eyes. With the exception of breakfast, where Abraxas’s oppressive presence and Lucius’s daunting absence had kept him silent, Draco had been whining all morning about the fact that he wasn’t allowed to accompany them to the ‘tea party.’ Narcissa’s gamble on him not wanting to go anyway had not paid off, a fact which was quickly exasperating both of them.

‘Because,’ Narcissa said tightly, for the millionth time, ‘he needs the practise, and I’d rather if you weren’t there to distract him from watching the older wizards for cues. Besides, you are still grounded, remember?’

Draco resorted to welling eyes and quivering chin, and Harry sighed inwardly and hoped Lucius would wake up soon so he and Narcissa could escape.

Lucius had been out all night last night, according to Narcissa, although she’d declined to tell either of them where he’d been or what he’d been doing. From the set of her lips, Harry guessed his cousin was doing something she didn’t approve of, like when Draco took all of the bedding from his and Harry’s rooms to try and construct a pillow fort in his sitting room. It hadn’t gone well, as he attempted to make it multi-level, and it had quickly collapsed with the addition of the second level. Narcissa had scolded him because they collapsed into the fireplace, so a lot of the sheets had been singed, and the pillow that landed on top of the fire (and thankfully put it out) was mostly black on one side. Luckily, they had replacements, but she’d been highly displeased all the same.

She and Harry were both counting down the days until Draco wasn’t grounded anymore.

‘Draco, please,’ Narcissa sighed. ‘I can’t take you along--it was an RSVP event, and I’ve already said it will just be me and Harry.’

This only precipitated the next level of Draco’s tantrum--he opened his mouth, put his fists to his eyes, and started to sob loudly--

‘ _Draco, that’s enough_!’ Lucius thundered as he strode into the room.

Harry jumped involuntarily, and after a look at Lucius’s expression, he slid out of his chair and under the table. He loved his cousin, but at the moment, he appeared downright scary, and Harry thought it was better to remain out of his notice--Lucius was paler than usual, with dark circles around his eyes, his mouth set in a straight, grim line, and the lack of sleep had clearly not done anything for his temper. Harry mentally took back his wish for Lucius to wake up and instead wished his poor cousin could go back to bed. Clearly, whatever he’d been up doing had not been fun.

However, to his surprise, sliding under the table and out of the line of sight did not guarantee not being noticed, as it would have at the Dursleys. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ was the rule with the Dursleys, and therefore, they were much happier when Harry was out of sight, no matter where that meant he was.

Lucius did not get cheerful, but he didn’t continue to yell at Draco, either. Instead, Harry heard a soft sigh.

‘Harry, come out of there, please,’ Lucius said quietly, in a much calmer tone.

Harry peeked out. Narcissa was glowering at Lucius, who was ignoring her, and Draco was staring at his father with a mixture of shock and fear--evidently he’d never heard Lucius bellow like that, either. Lucius was looking back at Harry just as tiredly as before, but he also looked rather sad now. Harry didn’t want him to be sad, so he cautiously climbed out from under the table and stood staring at the toes of his shoes.

‘We don’t crawl around under tables, dear,’ Narcissa agreed in a gentle tone, but a sidelong glance showed that she was still glaring at Lucius.

He wished she wouldn’t--it wasn’t Lucius’s fault he was tired, and everyone lost their tempers easier when they were tired. Lucius looked very exhausted.

‘Sorry,’ Harry mumbled.

‘ _I_ am the one who’s sorry,’ Lucius said, shocking Harry into looking up. ‘To both of you. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m afraid my patience is rather thin today.’

Draco gulped. ‘That’s all right, Father,’ he said, still sounding rattled, but there was a hopeful lift in his voice. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll be good today.’

To the surprise of three of them, Lucius smiled faintly at Draco--he hadn’t found a reason to smile at him since the broom incident.

‘That would be appreciated, Draco,’ he said softly, and rubbed his forehead, sighing.

‘Will you be all right?’ Harry asked anxiously. ‘Should we stay home and take care of you?’

Lucius looked at him with an expression that Harry couldn’t quite read, although it made him feel sort of pleased but embarrassed, and Narcissa smiled at him proudly.

‘No, thank you, Harry. I’m sure Draco and I will get along just fine. You go on to your tea party.’ Lucius paused, frowning briefly. ‘Before you go, though, I have a few things for you.’

Harry brightened. Presents from Lucius? Sometimes when he went to meetings, he came back with new quills and ink or new textbooks or other school-related items for him and Draco. Draco always rolled his eyes as soon as Lucius’s back was turned, but Harry was so pleased to be receiving the little gifts and touched that his wonderful cousin was thinking of him that he loved them all, and he kept a special drawer in his desk for the quills Lucius had given him. One of them was what Lucius had called a ‘dicta-quill’--it wrote down whatever you said for you. Harry hadn’t found a use for it so far, but he was certain that it would come in handy one day.

‘Just for Harry?’ Draco said, beginning to pout, but then he seemed to remember his promise to be good. ‘I mean, I don’t need any more quills or books anyway.’

Lucius shot him an amused glance. ‘I did not purchase these items, so there is nothing for you this time--they are things I recovered for Harry from Godric’s Hollow last night.’

Harry’s jaw dropped, and he turned wide eyes to see that Draco’s had as well. Draco had told him last night that Dumbledore had made that comment about Lucius not being brave enough to go there because Godric’s Hollow was where Harry had made the Dark Lord guy disappear, so most wizards were afraid to go there--even Lucius. Harry had got the idea that it was scary when Lucius had turned white after Dumbledore mentioned going there. Pride overcame shock as it exploded through him and he grinned brightly at Lucius.

‘I knew you were brave enough, I just knew it!’ he cried, bouncing forward and impulsively hugging Lucius, who let out a little grunt when shortly after Draco joined him. ‘I knew Dumbledore was wrong! He’s stupid!’

‘Yeah!’ Draco agreed, squeezing tighter. ‘He’s stupid, and he doesn’t know you’re the best wizard ever!’

‘Was it scary?’ Harry added eagerly, leaning back to see Lucius’s face. ‘Did you have to fight a ghost?’

‘People don’t fight ghosts, dummy, ghosts can’t touch people,’ Draco said importantly.

‘Draco,’ Narcissa said sternly.

‘Sorry.’

Harry ignored them both and looked up at Lucius with open worship.

His cousin, for his part, had turned rather pink, and seemed very bemused by their reaction, although Harry thought he looked just a little pleased, too.

‘No, I didn’t have to fight anything,’ he said carefully, and gently peeled their hands off of his robes, ushering them back toward their chairs. ‘I wasn’t able to recover much, as there was a lot of damage, but I did find a few things.’

Harry looked in awe at the items as Lucius set each of them on the table. There was a tired little Quidditch flyer on a string, first, which Narcissa assured him could be ‘refreshed,’ and then he could hang it wherever he liked in his rooms. There was a packet of photographs, and a bottle of wine ( _‘For your vaults, until you’re old enough,’_ Lucius said, with a wistful look at the bottle), and a picnic basket and blanket, and a book his mum had been reading. His favourite part (although he loved all of it) was a quilt his mum had made for him, and Harry had immediately taken it and laid it on his bed.

‘You can’t use that one for a blanket fort,’ he told Draco sternly when he returned to the sitting room.

Draco shook his head, wide-eyed. ‘No, of course not,’ he said quickly, and Harry was satisfied.

The photos were set aside to look at later, by his parents’ wands, and he put the picnic basket and blanket in the chest at the end of his bed. The book went on the shelf with the others, and this time Lucius didn’t wince at all or grimace--both he and Narcissa just nodded approvingly when he looked at them. Narcissa took the flyer on a string, so she could have him ‘refreshed’ the next time she was out on an errand, and Lucius took the bottle of wine at Harry’s insistence.

‘Just until the next time we go to Gringotts,’ Harry said when Lucius protested. ‘I don’t know what to do with it, and I don’t want it to get broken.’

Lucius took the bottle with another wistful look at it. ‘I’ll put it in my study for now, then. I’ll teach you how to store it.’

Harry beamed.

At last, though, Narcissa said it was time to go, and Lucius took Draco to the playroom.

‘I thought he was grounded?’ Harry said wonderingly as he and Narcissa went down to the entrance hall.

‘He is,’ Narcissa said, clearly amused, ‘but I don’t think Lucius is up to dealing with him away from his amusements today. If Draco gets involved enough in his toys, he may even get the opportunity to nap.’

Harry hoped so. He was very worried about Lucius, since he’d spent all night out being so very brave, just to make Harry happy, and if he hadn’t thought that this might be his only chance to get Draco a present, he would have changed his mind and stayed home.

Diagon Alley was bustling, as always, and Harry clung tightly to Narcissa’s hand, ducking his head in the hope that it might delay him being recognised. Unfortunately, it was well known by now that he was staying with the Malfoys, and Narcissa was easily recognisable, so it wasn’t long before people were pointing and whispering about him again. His second hope was that this wouldn’t take long, but…well, Narcissa had Draco’s birthday list in her hand, and it appeared to be quite long.

They hit the Quidditch shop first, naturally, as that took out a large chunk of the list. Harry gallantly carried the shopping basket for her, even though it did get awfully heavy after a while. Narcissa smiled at him and called him a little gentleman, though, so he thought it was all worth it.

‘What did you have in mind for Draco?’ she asked him curiously when they had gone through the bookshop to pick up a Bats player guide and Harry still hadn’t bought anything.

He bit his lip--the moment of truth had come. ‘Well….’

She raised a brow when his face started reddening, gently tugging him off the main path so he could stop and spit it out.

‘Draco really, _really_ wants that toy dragon that breathes fire,’ he blurted finally. ‘And he promised me he wouldn’t burn the house down, because he’ll only use it in the bathroom, where there’s water if anything catches on fire….’

Narcissa’s face twisted oddly, caught between disapproval and amusement. ‘Harry, I think sometimes you trust Draco just a little too much,’ she said diplomatically.

Harry looked at her earnestly. ‘But he really, _really_ wants it!’

‘Draco really, _really_ wants a lot of things that he shouldn’t have.’ She sighed when Harry’s shoulders drooped. ‘Just this once, all right? But in the future, if Lucius and I have told him he can’t have something for safety reasons, I don’t want you to buy it for him, either.’

He brightened, nodding firmly. ‘Yes, ma’am. I promise. I just don’t know what else to get him, and he’ll be so happy.’

She sighed, smiling. ‘All right. Just this once. Is there anything else you’d like to get while we’re here?’

Harry thought for a moment, and it occurred to him that he might like to get Lucius a present, too, to thank him for braving Godric’s Hollow and bringing back things that had belonged to his mum and dad. It meant the world to Harry, and he wanted Lucius to know how much he appreciated it. He hadn’t had anything of his parents at all before, not even a photo. Now he had a whole packet of them, and it was all down to his wonderful cousin.

‘What could I get for Lucius?’ he asked, as he had no idea what Lucius would like. He already seemed to have everything, and he had money to buy anything he didn’t already have.

‘For his birthday?’ Narcissa returned absently.

She’d turned her attention to the shop window across the alley while Harry was thinking. There seemed to be a lot of dresses in that particular window.

Harry’s eyes popped wide. ‘His birthday?’

‘Yes, it’s the day after Draco’s,’ she said, smiling. ‘You didn’t know? I did wonder how you’d found out--Lucius hasn’t celebrated it since Draco was born.’

He tilted his head. ‘Why not?’

Birthdays had always looked fun to Harry, when Dudley was having one, so he couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to celebrate theirs.

She shrugged in that elegant, non-shrugging way she had. ‘I believe it’s because he didn’t want to detract attention from Draco, but I have never asked.’

‘Oh.’ He frowned, watching the people stare at him as they walked by. ‘Well, I could get him a birthday present, too, but I was thinking of getting him a present for going and finding all of that stuff from my parents. I didn’t have any pictures of them or anything, and I want to thank him. He didn’t have to do that.’

Narcissa’s smile grew tender and she fussed with Harry’s hair a moment. ‘That’s very sweet, Harry dear. You may buy him two presents--I’ll help you.’

He grinned and took her hand again as they continued on their way. ‘When is _your_ birthday?’

‘Mine was back in February,’ she said with another tender smile.

‘Oh, okay.’

He made a mental note to remember that next year.

Their toy shop visit was almost as long as the Quidditch shop, but Harry quickly found and paid for the fire-breathing dragon toy before helping Narcissa carry everything this time. He was very glad she was a witch and could either have the packages shrunk and owled home, or simply shrink them and slide them into a pocket once they were paid for.

‘I don’t think Lucius would want anything here,’ Harry said doubtfully once they’d finished.

Narcissa laughed, her eyes dancing. ‘No, I don’t think so, either. He’s a bit old to find the model Quidditch pitch exciting. And he already has a chess set, though he rarely plays.’

He frowned and padded out of the shop after her. ‘Then what can I get for him? I don’t know if he’d like anything.’ Then he recalled the wistful looks Lucius had kept giving the wine he’d found in Harry’s dad’s cellar. ‘Is there somewhere we can buy wine for him? I think he really wanted my dad’s wine.’

Narcissa’s face froze for a moment. ‘Erm--that’s a lovely thought, Harry dear, but you’re not old enough to buy wine, for one thing. I could buy it for you to give to him, but--the reason Lucius was so covetous toward your father’s wine was because it’s a very special, very rare wine.’

Harry’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

Now it seemed even _more_ important not to break the bottle accidentally! He was very relieved he’d given it to Lucius for safekeeping.

‘What’s so special about it?’

‘It’s one of the finest white wines ever made by wizards,’ she explained. ‘The Potter family had vineyards in France up until 80 years ago or so--perhaps a little more--and they were renowned for that wine. That was back when the Potter family was much larger and very wealthy. Then, they began having fewer and fewer children, and finally, there was only one heir left, a son, and when he inherited everything, he had no interest in wine and a great many debts, so he sold off the vineyards and all of the family’s estates and ancestral properties to pay his debtors. There are very few bottles of it left in the world. I have never tasted it, but Lucius had a single glass, once, when he and my father drank to the signing of our marriage contract, and he claims it was the best wine he has ever had. It made him all but lose his taste for white wine, as he claims all others pale in comparison.’

‘Oh.’ Harry frowned. ‘So he wouldn’t really want anything else.’

‘Exactly.’

And Harry thought to himself that, someday, when he was old enough that Lucius couldn’t tell him no, he would give the bottle to Lucius forever, not just for safekeeping. Lucius would undoubtedly appreciate it far more than Harry, who was too young to imagine appreciating any kind of wine--his tastes ran more to pumpkin juice and milk.

‘Why don’t we look for some lovely cufflinks?’ Narcissa suggested instead, and Harry leapt at the suggestion.

He didn’t know anything about jewelry, either, but he knew Lucius liked things with snake designs, so eventually he chose a pair with two snakes with little emerald eyes, one with its mouth open and the other with it shut.

‘He’ll just love them,’ Narcissa said, smiling brightly. ‘You have _divine_ taste, Harry dear.’

He blushed a bit and hurried her back to Flourish & Blott’s. The cufflinks would make a good birthday present for Lucius, so Harry thought if he could find a book that might interest him, that would make a better ‘thank you’ gift.

‘Oh, it’s Mrs Parkinson,’ Narcissa whispered after they stepped inside. ‘I’d better go say hello--why don’t you go and start looking? This may take a while….’

Harry frowned after her as she stepped over to another woman with an upturned nose and an expression of severe disdain. He really didn’t like the idea of wandering off by himself, but he also really wanted to get Lucius another present, so after a moment in which it became clear that Narcissa had not been joking about it taking a while (they were settling in for a long chat, it seemed), he reluctantly slunk into the stacks. He was more than a little nervous, as this was the first time he’d ever been anywhere in Diagon Alley alone. He felt very small and very vulnerable, with every noise suddenly seeming ominous. He tried to brush it off by telling himself that Narcissa wouldn’t have told him he could go off if it wasn’t safe--but he couldn’t help but wish Lucius was here. He never left Harry to go talk to anyone else, just stayed right by him and glared at anyone who got too close for comfort.

After a bit, though, Harry got absorbed in his search for a book for Lucius, having found a section about flowers and other plants for a garden that seemed interesting--to him, anyway, and he was deep in thought about whether it would interest Lucius at all or not. He was also trying to remember all of the many, many, _many_ books in Lucius’s study and the many, many, many, many, _many_ books in the Malfoy library, so he wouldn’t accidentally buy something Lucius already had.

He regretted his deep absorption when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, making him start so hard he dropped all three books he’d been contemplating. The hand spun him around, and Harry found himself staring into a pair of hard brown eyes. The wizard smirking at him was short, although still much taller than Harry, with a round upturned nose and a shock of greying brown hair. Despite his overall appearance of softness, his grip on Harry’s shoulder was tight, and Harry couldn’t shake it off.

‘Well,’ said the wizard quietly. ‘Well, well. Harry Potter, all by his lonesome. What are you doing all by yourself? You might get hurt, wandering off where there’s no one to see if you had some sort of accident.’

His tone was friendly enough, but something about it and his intense gaze made Harry shiver. A glance around proved that they did, in fact, seem to be alone, and Harry felt a spike of fear through his middle.

‘And where is your great and powerful _guardian_ , eh?’ the wizard continued. ‘Where is the mighty Lucius, hmm?’

Harry just stared back for a moment, and then swallowed hard when he realised the wizard was waiting for an actual answer.

‘He’s at home with Draco….’

The wizard smiled, and Harry suddenly wished he’d thought to lie.

‘All alone, then,’ the wizard said, almost to himself.

His grip tightened until it was painful, and he reached for his pocket, where his wand must have been. Harry quickly opened his mouth to say that no, he wasn’t alone, Narcissa was waiting for him up front, but before he could find his voice, a small, unfamiliar voice piped up from the aisle.

‘H-h-h-he’s not alone. He-he’s with m-me. Me and my gran.’

They both turned to look, and the wizard’s hand dropped with alacrity. Harry let out a small breath of relief, although he wasn’t sure why the boy at the end of the aisle had caused that reaction. He wasn’t much bigger than Harry, and he had a round, friendly face. He was rather pasty and he looked terrified at having spoken up at all, smoothing his blond hair down nervously.

‘Is that so?’ the wizard said coolly, stepping back from Harry a little more. ‘Mrs Longbottom is around, then, is she?’

The boy nodded quickly. ‘She’s right behind me, Mr P-p-parkinson. Told me to run ahead for a few more minutes in the herbology section.’

‘I see.’ He looked annoyed, but smiled at them both thinly. ‘Well, I’ll leave you boys to it, then. Good day.’

He stalked off like nothing had happened, and Harry made a mental note to tell Lucius about Mr Parkinson and what he had said--when Lucius was rested, of course.

‘Thanks,’ he said, gathering up the books he’d dropped. ‘I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but it didn’t seem like anything good.’

‘No p-problem,’ stuttered the boy, hurrying over to help. He still seemed nervous even though Mr Parkinson was gone. ‘Mr P-parkinson wasn’t a d-devout Death Eater, b-but everyone knows he put money into their cause. He’s n-never liked losing money on a venture, my gran says. Didn’t take it well. That’s probably why he doesn’t like you. I d-don’t think he’d kill you, but….’

‘But he probably didn’t just want to tickle me, either,’ Harry concluded glumly. ‘What’s a Death Eater?’

The boy blinked, surprised. ‘One of You-Know-Who’s followers. Not all of his followers committed that far, like Mr Parkinson, but some of them did, like Mr M--’ His face twisted. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Neville, by the way, Neville Longbottom.’

Harry grinned and took Neville’s hand in a firm shake. ‘Harry Potter.’

‘I know,’ said Neville shyly, and Harry understood where some of his nervousness had come from.

Neville was nice, though, and he’d rescued Harry, so maybe he could get over Harry’s fame and just be his friend? It just might take a little work, that was all. Neville had already taken the first steps, so now it was up to Harry to meet him halfway.

‘Could you maybe help me with one more thing?’ he asked as cheerfully as he could.

Neville perked up immediately. ‘Well, I can try, Mr Potter. What is it?’

Harry laughed. ‘Don’t call me that. I’m just Harry.’

Neville looked very pleased, standing a little taller. ‘Okay, Harry.’

‘I want to buy Lucius a thank you present, so I was looking through these books,’ he said, gesturing to the ones he and Neville were holding. ‘Only, I’ve never bought a present for a grown-up before, and I don’t know what sort of books they’d like to get as gifts. Do you think these are dumb ideas? I thought they looked interesting, but I don’t know if he’d like them.’

Neville shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know Mr Malfoy, so I don’t know what sorts of things he reads, either. I don’t think they’re dumb ideas, though. That one in your right hand is new--it’s about the history and meanings of magical flowers. I think he’d probably like that one better than the one about how to plan a garden, or this one--it’s about how to make food out of your flowers in the event of a natural disaster.’

That was the one Harry had thought looked the most interesting, but it _did_ seem a bit depressing for a gift, on second thought. Plus, if this one was new, then there was a better chance that Lucius didn’t already have it. He didn’t need to plan a garden, either, as the Malfoy gardens were already planted.

‘I’ll get that one, then,’ he said brightly. ‘Thanks, Neville.’

Neville turned red and didn’t say anything, but he was smiling shyly, so Harry figured it was okay.

‘ _Neville_!’ came a shrill voice from round the corner, startling them both. ‘Where are you, boy?’

A bent woman with a thin face and a long, crooked nose came into view, leaning on a cane and carrying a very large hat that appeared to have a dead vulture attached to it. Harry unconsciously straightened as soon as her narrowed eyes settled on him. She had that schoolteacher-ish presence that made him want to adjust his posture and speak the Queen’s English, lest he get called out for a dropped T.

‘There you are,’ the witch, who could only be Mrs Longbottom, said sharply. ‘And who is this?’

She squinted at him suspiciously.

‘This is Harry, Gran,’ Neville squeaked. ‘Harry Potter. I was just helping him--’

‘Harry Potter, eh,’ she grumbled, apparently unimpressed. ‘Staying with those _Malfoys_ , are you?’

Harry simultaneously bristled at the slight against his cousins, implied by her tone, and relaxed at her near-dismissal of him. She wasn’t impressed by his fame, and despite her brusque, commanding demeanour, Harry didn’t find her that frightening, though Neville obviously did. Her affection for her grandson was very subtle, buried under her sharp, loud voice, but her eyes warmed when they settled on Neville. She’d also taken up a position slightly facing Harry, closer to Neville, making it easier to protect him if Harry suddenly attacked them. He wasn’t fond of her attitude toward his family, but her protectiveness of his new friend softened his otherwise hostile response.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, and then flushed. ‘I mean, _madam_.’

Narcissa had been trying to impress upon him during ‘pure-blood training’ that while his ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ were polite enough to get by, it was considered _more_ polite in wizarding society to use ‘sir’ and ‘madam.’

Mrs Longbottom’s long brow rose. ‘And what do you think of them so far?’

‘They’re great,’ Harry said firmly, trying not to glare at her. ‘Narcissa and Lucius are teaching me a lot, and Draco’s loads of fun--most of the time,’ he added in a mumble, thinking of this morning’s tantrum with chagrin.

Mrs Longbottom appeared not to believe him, but she let it pass. ‘What about Lord Malfoy himself, Abraxas?’

Lucius had rolled his eyes when Abraxas referred to himself as ‘Lord Malfoy,’ and Mrs Longbottom didn’t seem to think much of the title, either, her tone mocking as she spoke it.

Harry hesitated. ‘Er….’ He wiped his hands on his robes and looked at the floor. ‘He’s all right.’

The truth was, Harry was growing more and more nervous around the old wizard. The rare dinners where he chose to make an appearance were utterly silent, tense affairs, and he’d taken to staring at Harry throughout the meal. Harry didn’t like it, and he didn’t think Lucius did, either, as last time, Lucius had chosen to read the _Evening Prophet_ at the table, the open newspaper blocking Abraxas’s view of Harry. Harry had been supremely relieved.

He had also popped up in odd places during the day three times now, appearing in Harry’s path, and though he merely nodded to Harry and moved on, it was making him nervous. He felt like Abraxas was watching him, and he didn’t know why. He hadn’t told Lucius about that, or about Abraxas standing out in the garden watching his window--he didn’t want to sound like a whiner, when Abraxas was probably just afraid that Harry would misbehave or something.

Oddly enough, Mrs Longbottom seemed to approve of his ambivalence toward Abraxas. ‘He can be unnerving,’ she conceded, softening just a fraction.

Harry let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. ‘Yes, madam.’

Her eyes flicked over him again. ‘Where are your guardians now?’

‘Narcissa is up at the front of the shop, talking to Mrs Parkinson,’ Harry said quickly. ‘I’m looking for a gift for Cousin Lucius, so she sent me to look while she talked. Mr Parkinson, he--’ He swallowed, unsure whether to share with a relative stranger. ‘Well, anyway, Neville showed up, so Mr Parkinson didn’t stick around long.’

Neville’s face reddened, but Mrs Longbottom’s glance at him was approving. Her eyes had narrowed again when Harry called him ‘Cousin Lucius,’ and he wasn’t quite sure what that meant, so he decided to let it go.

‘I imagine not,’ she said crisply. ‘Mr Parkinson is not a particularly bold person. It’s why he never commits to anything.’

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he chose to keep his mouth closed, keeping Narcissa’s admonishment in mind. _‘If you say nothing, you can’t say anything you’ll regret later.’_ It was a hard lesson to remember, but he didn’t think he had as much trouble with it as Draco had with _‘If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.’_ They both could stand to improve, he thought glumly. Perhaps Narcissa was right about them becoming gentlemen--there was so much to remember all the time!

But Harry was determined to try. He wanted to be just like Lucius someday, and the first step was remembering all of Narcissa’s lessons on gentlemanly behaviour.

Mrs Longbottom’s mouth twitched upward for such a brief moment that Harry wasn’t sure whether he’d actually seen it or not.

‘Mrs Malfoy should keep a closer eye on her charge,’ she said at last, ‘with the Parkinsons about. Although it could be worse--much worse. Well, Mr Potter, if you’re finished, we’ll escort you to your guardian.’

Neville eyed the shelves longingly, but when he caught Harry looking at him, he nodded firmly in agreement and smiled.

‘Yes, I’m done, madam,’ Harry said politely.

The Longbottoms walked with him to the front of the shop, and when Narcissa spotted them, she stiffened, but offered a polite smile and nod.

‘Mrs Longbottom,’ she said smoothly, ‘how nice to see you again.’

Mrs Longbottom snorted. ‘I’m sure it is, Mrs Malfoy. We caught your young charge here having a little run-in with Mr Parkinson. You might keep a better eye on your ward.’

Narcissa’s eyes flashed and her lips tightened at the rebuke, but she also glanced nervously at where Mr Parkinson was helping a little girl (who looked just like Mrs Parkinson, Harry thought, so she must have been their daughter) get a book from a high shelf.

‘Thank you, Mrs Longbottom,’ she said in a stilted sort of voice. ‘I will keep that in mind.’ Then she looked at Harry and relaxed visibly. ‘Did you find something for Lucius?’

‘Oh, yes--Neville here helped me pick it out,’ Harry said proudly, showing her the book.

Narcissa seemed amused for some reason when she looked at the title, but she merely nodded and said they should pay for it and head home, then.

‘It was nice meeting you, Mr Potter,’ Mrs Longbottom said solemnly.

Harry shook her hand. ‘It was nice meeting you, too, Mrs Longbottom,’ he said, trying to match her tone, and both witches looked at him with faint approval, so he figured he’d done all right.

‘It was nice to meet you, Harry,’ Neville added after his gran nudged him with her cane.

Harry grinned, rocking on his heels a little with the pleasure of having made a new friend. No Dudley around to spoil it!

‘It was great meeting you, too, Neville. Thanks for all your help!’ A thought occurred to him. ‘Would it be okay if I wrote to you? You’re the first person my age I’ve met in the wizarding world--besides Draco, I mean--and--I mean--we could be friends, couldn’t we?’ he blurted excitedly.

Neville underwent an amazing transformation--he stood tall, revealing that he was actually a little taller than Draco, and his face split into a wide, bright grin, with no trace of nervousness at all.

‘Oh, yes! I mean, yeah, you can write to me! And I’ll write back,’ he said, just as quickly and excitedly as Harry.

Harry bounced with excitement. ‘Okay!’

‘Okay!’

‘Come along, Neville.’

‘Stop bouncing, Harry.’

The two boys separated reluctantly, waving to one another over their shoulders until Neville’s gran successfully pulled him past a shelf and out of sight.

‘Harry….’

‘Yeah?’

Narcissa looked at him for a moment, her expression troubled, but after a moment, she just offered him a faint smile and shook her head.

‘Nothing. Never mind. Let’s go pay and head home.’

Harry trotted happily up to the counter, but once there, Narcissa’s expression froze, and he realised that the woman manning the till was giving her an equally horrified look. He waited, but they continued to stare at each other without saying anything. He really didn’t understand the problem--the woman was a plump, motherly sort, with curly hair that was brighter red than Harry had ever seen on a human head. He wondered if she dyed it or used a spell to make it that colour. Before she’d got that horrified look on her face, she’d been smiling and friendly with all of the customers that he’d seen, and he thought she was very pleasant looking.

At last, a queue began to form behind them, and he took it upon himself to walk up to the counter and put his book on it.

‘Um, excuse me, madam?’ he said as politely as he could. ‘I’m ready to pay.’

The red-haired woman shook herself, and after she’d snapped out of it, she smiled at him very nicely.

‘I’m sorry about that, dear.’

‘That’s okay,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Do you two know each other?’

The woman paused. ‘Erm….’

Narcissa stayed frozen for a moment longer, but then she hesitantly stepped forward, seemingly unsure of how to proceed. Harry looked from one to the other in complete bafflement--he felt like there was a lot of tension, just like between Narcissa and Mrs Longbottom, but he wasn’t sure why.

‘Harry, this is Molly Weasley,’ Narcissa said at last, very slowly and not at all sounding like herself. Her smile seemed sort of strained and unnatural. ‘She and I were at school together, for a few years.’ She paused, and her next words were full of false cheer. ‘When you go to Hogwarts, you’ll meet some of her children.’

Harry thought it was better not to ask why he couldn’t meet them before then.

‘That’s right,’ (Mrs? Narcissa hadn’t said) Weasley said, friendly but watching Narcissa carefully. ‘My son Ronald will be in your year.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry. ‘That’s…really cool.’

He looked apologetically at Narcissa, who had told him that words like ‘cool’ and ‘wicked’ and ‘brilliant’ were not to be used in their slang form, but she didn’t appear to notice, focusing on Mrs Weasley.

‘Here’s your change, Harry dear,’ Mrs Weasley said kindly.

He tried not to frown (only Narcissa was allowed to call him that!). ‘Thank you, Mrs Weasley. It was nice meeting you.’

Her smile grew more natural. ‘It was lovely meeting you, too, Harry.’

He figured that solved the mystery of whether she was a missus or not, as she hadn’t told him he was wrong.

Narcissa seemed very relieved when they left the shop. ‘I wasn’t aware she’d taken a job,’ she murmured, and Harry guessed he wasn’t supposed to hear that.

‘You two don’t like each other? She seemed very nice, and you’re wonderful.’

That surprised a genuine smile out of Narcissa. ‘We’ve always…run in different circles,’ she said delicately.

Harry remembered Lucius saying that about himself and Harry’s father, too, but he wasn’t quite sure what either of them meant by it. What kinds of circles were there? And why couldn’t they be friends even if their other friends didn’t want to be?

Although, he supposed it might not be that easy. Maybe in the adult world, there wasn’t someone as obvious as Dudley, beating up people who tried to talk to other people, or making it clear to his friends that he’d pound them if they tried to make friends with Harry, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still bullies who wouldn’t be friends with you if you were friends with people they didn’t like. Harry didn’t think Lucius or Narcissa would be friends with a bully, but it could be that when bullies grew up, they got really good at hiding they were bullies. If that was the case, even his parents could have been friends with a bully and not known it!

Or, he thought, what if the bully was your boss? Then you wouldn’t have any choice, because then you’d get sacked for talking to people your boss didn’t like. Harry knew Lucius was his own boss, as he owned his companies, but Abraxas sometimes told Lucius what to do, and Lucius did whatever he said even though he didn’t look very happy about it. Maybe Abraxas hadn’t liked Harry’s father, so Lucius couldn’t have been friends with him without making his father angry? And it could have been the same for Narcissa and Mrs Weasley.

Harry frowned, scratching his head. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might have to deal with Dudley’s type even after he grew up. It wasn’t an encouraging thought at all. He was very glad that Narcissa had let him talk to Neville and Mrs Weasley, even though she had problems with them. The Malfoys were a million, zillion times better than the Dursleys, and the reminder just made him feel grateful all over again.

‘Her husband and Lucius often clash at the Ministry,’ Narcissa clarified, seeing Harry’s frown. ‘Their politics are rather…opposite, and it doesn’t make it easy to make friends.’

‘Oh.’

He could understand that, too. Uncle Vernon had once thrown a potential client out of his house for saying he voted Labour. Harry had never known what party Uncle Vernon voted for, because after seeing him shouting down the poor Labour-voting man and bodily tossing him on the lawn, he’d decided he really didn’t want to know that badly. He most likely voted for whoever his company told him to vote for, Harry thought bitterly.

He’d often been bitter about the Dursleys lately, although he tried not to be. He hadn’t realised _quite_ how stupid and crude they were until he’d met the Malfoys--in the comparison between Lucius and Uncle Vernon, Uncle Vernon came out looking like…. Well, Harry thought of him as a fat, blond walrus who’d been gifted with the powers of speech by a misguided wizard, most days. And he tried not to mentally compare Aunt Petunia with Narcissa at all, because it inevitably sent him into paroxysms of laughter, as Aunt Petunia’s haughty, false attempts at the class and grace that came to Narcissa naturally had become hysterical to him.

Of course, it was a lot less funny when he thought about having to go back, should he let the Malfoys down so badly that they didn’t want him anymore.

When they arrived back at home, Harry quickly hid his gifts for Lucius and Draco in his room before following Narcissa to the playroom. To his surprise, Draco was quietly sitting at the table, trying to build a house of cards with Exploding Snap cards. Harry did not see that ending well, when they eventually collapsed in a pile. Perhaps that was Draco’s plan, though--to see how big of a bang they’d make when they fell.

‘Where--?’

Narcissa cut off when Draco pressed a finger to his lips and pointed.

Lucius was sleeping on the couch, his mouth hanging open and one arm hanging off the side of the couch. He looked fairly disheveled, so Harry thought he’d probably been sleeping there for a while. Narcissa and Draco were muffling giggles, but Harry felt a pang of sympathy in his stomach and padded over to the couch.

‘Don’t wake him!’ Draco whispered urgently. ‘He’s in a rotten mood!’

Harry ignored him and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, clumsily unfolding it and draping it as best he could across Lucius, who didn’t stir. Then he silently padded out of the room again, back to his own room. He figured that if he and Narcissa and Draco stayed in there, they would probably talk, and then Lucius would wake up anyway, and besides, he had gifts to wrap.

That thought made Harry freeze in horror--he’d completely forgotten about gift wrap! He didn’t have any, and he wasn’t sure where the Malfoys kept theirs. His mind raced--Narcissa was probably still in the playroom, as he hadn’t heard her pass, and if he went in to ask her, he might accidentally wake Lucius up. Lucius was sleeping, so obviously he was out. Draco was the same problem as Narcissa, and Abraxas…. Harry shuddered at the thought.

But there was someone else who knew where everything in Malfoy Manor was, he realised excitedly.

‘Dobby?’

_CRACK_

‘Mister Harry Potter is calling Dobby?’ the house elf squeaked cheerfully.

Harry grinned--he still couldn’t get over how cool that was. ‘Yeah, Dobby, are you busy right now?’

Dobby shook his head, his ears flapping. ‘No, Dobby is not being required to help with supper today.’

‘Oh, great! Would you mind helping me for a while?’ He paused. ‘And then, afterward, Cousin Lucius brought me some pictures of my parents and their friends, and I thought you might like to look at them with me?’ he added tentatively.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to share them with Draco, who had a tendency to accidentally break and rip things in his enthusiasm, and he figured that since they hadn’t been friends, Narcissa and Lucius probably wouldn’t be interested in looking at the pictures. Dobby was just as excitable as Draco, but he generally hurt himself, rather than anything of Harry’s.

Dobby’s eyes glowed with excitement and he bounced in place several times. ‘Harry Potter is needing Dobby’s help?’ he squeaked. ‘Of course, Dobby will help Harry Potter with anything!’

Harry smiled. He didn’t really understand it, since Dobby said he wanted to be free and be paid for his work someday, but for some reason, Dobby really, really liked helping out with anything.

‘Thanks, I really appreciate it,’ Harry said, and waited while Dobby had a little cry.

He cried whenever Harry said or did something nice for him, although he’d slowly been getting better. The crying sessions were shorter and quieter, anyway.

‘See, I bought Draco a birthday gift, and I bought Lucius a gift for his birthday and a gift to thank him for getting the pictures we’re going to look at, but I don’t know where the gift wrap is,’ Harry explained.

Dobby seemed to think for a moment. ‘Dobby knows where to find everything Harry Potter needs. Dobby will be right back.’

Harry grinned and waited. It wasn’t a long wait, and soon, they were surrounded by tissue paper, gift wrap, and ribbon, with bits of tape stuck to them. Dobby, it turned out, had never wrapped any presents before, and neither had Harry, and they weren’t very good at it. Still, they were having fun trying. Harry actually got to hear Dobby laugh--a house elf laugh was a high, repetitive sound, like someone had taken a squeaky toy and was squeezing it rapidly.

‘I don’t think that piece is big enough--don’t cut your finger off!’ Harry giggled. ‘Maybe I should handle the scissors?’

‘But Harry Potter almost cut his ear off!’ Dobby shot back between bouts of squeaking laughter.

They were both having so much fun that neither of them noticed the door open, nor when it quietly shut a moment later.

Afterward, Harry realised he’d missed dinner, so Dobby popped to the kitchen and brought back some of the leftovers for both of them--which was apparently where all of the extra food that Harry thought had been wasted went--house elves had to eat, too, didn’t they? He’d thought it was pretty horrible when Dobby first told him, the house elves eating scraps like the Dursleys had done to him, but Dobby had been amused at the idea.

‘Scraps? The Family and Harry Potter is eating like birds, sir,’ he said, grinning. ‘We house elves is feasting every night.’

‘Don’t house elves get fat?’ Harry had wondered innocently.

‘House elves is working so they is not getting fat,’ Dobby explained matter-of-factly. ‘A fat house elf is a house elf who is not serving his master, and he is a bad, bad house elf.’

Harry frowned. ‘But if you’re feasting every night, aren’t you eating way more calories than you’re burning?’

Aunt Petunia had been very concerned about how many calories she ate--not that her eating less of them had meant any more for Harry.

Dobby just looked confused by the whole idea, so Harry had written it off as a magic thing.

They took their plates to Harry’s bed and munched while they looked through the photographs. Dobby was properly appreciative of the opportunity.

‘Your mother is being very pretty,’ he commented after a few pictures.

‘Was,’ Harry corrected sadly.

Dobby hesitantly put an arm around him--he was new to the idea of hugs, but he’d liked the concept when Harry explained it to him.

Harry smiled a little tremulously. ‘Thanks, Dobby.’

‘Harry Potter is a great wizard,’ Dobby replied. ‘Dobby is happy to be Harry Potter’s friend.’

Harry’s smile firmed up--he had two friends, now. Well, and Draco, too. He’d never had a friend before, so the idea of having three made him feel sort of warm and strong.

‘I’m happy you’re my friend, too.’

His parents had had lots of friends. The most prominent ones in the photos were Sirius, Peter, and Remus, but there were lots of others, too. His mother had had a lot of girl friends at all ages--and one boy who only appeared in one picture, a small Muggle snapshot where they both looked nervous but excited in brand new Hogwarts robes. Harry knew they were brand new because they still had creases in them, and the boy’s robe still had a bright blue pin in it from Madam Malkin’s. The boy looked vaguely familiar, and Harry squinted at him.

‘Hey, it’s Professor Snape!’

That made Dobby look a little nervous--he was afraid of exactly three people, that Harry knew of: Abraxas, Lucius, and Professor Snape. For Harry, though, it was physical proof that the professor’s extremely rare stories about his mum weren’t made up.

‘He and Mum look so happy,’ Harry said wistfully.

Dobby just hugged him a little again.

They fell asleep before Narcissa came up to tuck him in, wrapped in the quilt Harry's mum had made.


	11. Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius thinks over the possible results of Harry's meetings in Diagon Alley; Harry delivers his thank-you gift; and Arthur tells Remus about an important discovery he's made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot-like things in this chapter. Part of this is my attempt at explaining why seemingly no one except Sirius (had he been cleared) seems willing/able to adopt or take Harry in as a legal ward. 'Because Dumbledore said no' isn't a good enough reason, not for all of them, anyway, not to me. If it's difficult, that makes more sense as to why they'd listen to him.
> 
> Thank you to all of you for reading, and double-thanks to those who left feedback, I love you, you're wonderful. Enjoy! :)

Lucius blearily stared at Narcissa, trying to understand why she was so upset.

‘Harry met Molly Weasley today,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Harry met Augusta and Neville Longbottom today.’

‘Yes,’ she said shortly.

‘I see.’

They were in his study, where Lucius had relocated for the night when he woke and found he’d slept through half of dinner. He’d heard laughter from Harry’s room on his way downstairs and decided to check to make sure the boys weren’t skipping meals, only to find that Draco was entirely absent. Instead, Harry and Dobby were sitting in the middle of a giant mess, laughing their heads off. Lucius hadn’t even been aware that Harry had contact with any of the house elves, and he still hadn’t decided how he felt about their apparent friendship. He’d ultimately chosen not to disturb them, since neither of them had noticed him watching them.

Draco and Narcissa had finished their dinner by the time he arrived, but Draco stayed to talk his ear off until he’d finished, too, and then promptly went off to do the washing up, like he was supposed to. At least, Lucius _hoped_ that was what he was doing. He didn’t have the energy to check on him, physically or magically. His nap had been very ill-advised, as he’d woken feeling worse than when he started, and he’d already decided to take a potion tonight to get his sleep cycle back on track.

‘But you handled it, right?’ he finally said, rather helplessly.

Narcissa’s lips tightened. ‘As best I could. I was civil. We’ll be seeing more of Molly, it would seem--she was working the till.’

Lucius’s eyes widened. ‘Molly Weasley was….’

He trailed off, slowly grinning.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. ‘It isn’t funny, Lucius, it’s about bloody time.’

He chuckled quietly anyway, into his sleeve, and looked up at her mischievously.

‘She was friendly to Harry, and he reciprocated. He wanted to know afterward why we don’t get along.’

That sobered him immediately. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘That we run in different circles, and that you and Arthur disagree politically.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘He’s also friendly with the Longbottoms,’ she said softly, her eyes distant. Probably thinking about her crazy sister. ‘Very friendly. He wants to write to Neville.’

Lucius frowned. The Longbottoms and the Blacks did not get along, to put it mildly. Even though she’d been disowned and had had nothing to do with Bellatrix’s actions, the Longbottoms didn’t even talk to Andromeda. Still, if the boys got along, he saw no reason to interfere….

He actually felt for Neville. The poor boy was a pure-blood, but wouldn’t be accepted in most circles, due to his parents’ open defiance of the Dark Lord. He was viewed as a blood traitor, despite the fact that he’d been a baby at the time. If he grew up to be an actual blood traitor, at least Lucius completely understood and sympathised with his motives--his fellow pure-bloods had attacked his parents, leaving him to be raised by that overbearing old hag and his crazy extended family. If the boy hadn’t displayed any obvious accidental magic by now, he wouldn’t doubt that Algernon Longbottom, Neville’s sterile great-uncle, would take it upon himself to try to ‘force’ it out of him. As though such a thing could be done. That family was just stupid enough to believe that ostentatious displays were the only expression a child’s magic could take--Lucius already knew, as a member of the board, that Neville’s name was down for Hogwarts, so he’d already expressed his magic in some form. He hoped for the boy’s sake that it had been a dazzling display the old crackpot couldn’t possibly have missed.

‘He should,’ Lucius said at length. ‘I see no reason for the boys not to be friends. They’re both…without their parents. For much the same reasons.’

Narcissa shut her mouth on whatever she’d been about to say, apparently startled by that. She hadn’t looked at it from that particular angle, evidently.

‘Was Mrs Longbottom hostile?’

She recovered quickly. ‘Not openly. Harry noticed some tension, but we were both perfectly civil. Although she did scold me for not keeping a better eye on Harry,’ she added, scowling.

Lucius straightened. ‘She what? Why? What happened?’

She sighed. ‘Well, I saw Elinor Parkinson at Flourish & Blott’s, so I stopped for a chat and I told Harry to go on ahead--’

‘You _what_?!’ he exploded, leaping from his chair. ‘ _Alone_?! Don’t you realise what could have happened? He might have been abducted! He might have been killed! I knew I should have come along, I _knew_ it, I just didn’t realise that it was because you were going to be _irresponsible_ with Harry’s life!’

The colour had risen in Narcissa’s cheeks and her nostrils flared. ‘How dare you imply that I don’t care for Harry just as much, if not more, than you do,’ she said, her voice low and cold. ‘At least I’m not keeping him for some political agenda.’

Lucius paled, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists, and he let out a breath, forcing himself to step back. ‘I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,’ he said roughly.

Narcissa lifted her chin. ‘Do as you like. You’re the one who keeps claiming not to care for the boy. If I may finish?’

He nodded curtly, keeping his jaw tightly clenched to keep himself from saying something he’d regret later.

‘I thought it was safe, because Pansy was with her mother, and I didn’t see Peyton anywhere. Peyton did arrive from the back, but he didn’t look any different than usual, so I assumed he and Harry had not crossed paths. Later, Harry and the Longbottoms came back to the front, and Mrs Longbottom scolded me, as I said. Apparently, Peyton found Harry alone, and Neville stepped in before anything could happen. I wasn’t purposely being negligent, I just didn’t know he was around,’ she snapped in conclusion.

Lucius’s first reaction was to give her a good ticking off, but there was little point. It was already over and done with, no harm had come of it, and he doubted Narcissa would be so foolish again. He really didn’t want to fight with her, not when they’d been so close lately. She had been more affectionate since Harry arrived, as she hadn’t been since after Draco was born, and while it made Lucius uncomfortable on one level, deep down he secretly sort of enjoyed it. It wasn’t dignified to be kissed on and teased and doted on, but it did make him feel wanted. Even Draco’s rather embarrassing displays of affection in the form of loud declarations of love and crushing tackle-hugs were welcome, though he had little idea of how to respond to them.

Oddly enough, Harry was most illustrative of how to respond to Narcissa and Draco’s affection, and Lucius had been surreptitiously observing as Harry grew bolder about responding, as each of his reciprocations were accepted, rather than rebuffed. Harry, coming from such an unloving home, had been as shy and uncomfortable and embarrassed as Lucius when he first arrived, turning red when Narcissa fussed over him or Draco pounced on him. Now, though, he grinned up at Narcissa and favoured her with a hug in return when she fussed, and he quickly and easily responded to her ‘I love yous’ with his own, with no traces of shyness anymore. Draco’s hugs were reciprocated, and when he chose to randomly inform Harry that he liked him, Harry responded in kind, rather than blushing and looking like he didn’t quite believe that. It wasn’t a perfect education on the subject, as his and Harry’s situations were quite different, but Lucius thought he might adapt his own responses from Harry’s example--assuming he ever got brave enough. The words always seemed to stick in his throat.

He gave himself a mental shake and returned to the problems at hand.

Harry had encountered Peyton Parkinson--not good. He would need to speak to Harry about that tomorrow, to find out what exactly had occurred.

Harry had met Neville and Augusta Longbottom. This could go either way. If Mrs Longbottom took a liking to Harry, she would be a valuable, fierce ally for him--not for the Malfoys, obviously. There was no love lost between them, but Lucius had no doubt of her fidelity once she’d decided to accept Harry. She wasn’t a woman who cared much about who your friends were--what mattered was how _you_ acted. Harry wasn’t likely to behave in a way to garner her censure.

As for Neville, a friendship with him would solidify Mrs Longbottom’s good opinion, and give Harry someone his own age besides Draco to talk to. It would be good for him to meet other boys--and the fact that Neville was a pure-blood of good family stock was a definite point in his favour. Much better for Harry to meet more of their kind, rather than that other riff-raff. It was bad enough that he spent two nights a week with that half-blood wolf. Lucius had seen Neville from a distance several times but never been formally introduced--still, from what little he’d observed, the boy was well-mannered, if a bit too timid, and could provide another good example for Harry to follow in the development of his own manners.

Harry had also met Molly Weasley. Lucius was less certain about this being a good development. Molly was a natural mother--she’d even tried to mother _him_ once, in school, when Lucius had neglected to notice a tear in his uniform. He’d quickly set her straight on her place in the world, but it hadn’t stopped her from shooting him worried glances for the rest of the day, dogging him between classes, brandishing a sewing kit. He’d purposely left the tear until after curfew, just to annoy her. Only the presence of one of her brothers, Fabian, who was younger than Molly and in Lucius’s year, had prevented him from hexing her, just to drive the message home.

If Molly took it into her head that Harry needed _mothering_ , needed _rescuing_ , from those horrible, awful, slimy Malfoys, then Dumbledore’s chances of winning Harry would improve considerably. She was like a dog with a bone when she set her eyes on a target.

On the other hand, if Harry could convince her that he was happy with the Malfoys, that he was well taken care of and had no desire to be rescued, as he had so easily convinced Lupin, then Molly would be of great assistance to _them_ , rather than Dumbledore. Her influence on Arthur would in turn cause influence at the Ministry.

Ultimately, it was a question of whether Dumbledore’s supporters were more loyal to him or to Harry. Lupin had struggled several times, according to Severus, as he felt he owed Dumbledore a great deal for protecting him for so many years, and for helping him to hide his condition during his schooling, and had admitted to Severus that he felt like a traitor for withholding information. (Severus, it seemed, had no such qualms, although he still refused point blank to give his reasons for siding with them over Dumbledore. Given his reaction to the spot where Lily had died, Lucius thought he could guess with some accuracy.) However, Lupin had also felt betrayed by Dumbledore, upon finding out what conditions Harry had lived in, and his affection for his friends and their orphaned son had won out, particularly since Dumbledore was, apparently, adamant that Harry must return to the Dursleys, while Harry himself was terrified at the very prospect and was visibly improving with each day he spent at Malfoy Manor.

However, Lucius had no way of knowing how large the margin between siding with Dumbledore and siding with Harry was (it could be very slim, indeed, and he wasn’t about to start a conversation with the wolf to find out). With the rest of the populace, it may not go the same way. In fact, Lucius would bet that it wouldn’t--Harry was the Boy Who Lived, their saviour, but Dumbledore was the flagship, the leader, the face of the resistance against the Dark Lord. If the rest of the wizarding world had to choose, would they really follow a boy just coming up eight over a powerful wizard who had already proven himself against one terrible Dark wizard?

‘Lucius, I understand that you’re tired, but you could make an effort to pay attention.’

He blinked. ‘Hmm?’

Narcissa sighed. ‘I said that I have already sent out all of Draco’s party invitations, so you had best prepare yourself for less than desirable company, including the Parkinsons. Draco begged me to leave out the girls, but I thought Harry should meet them. Everything is arranged--you’ll just have to end Draco’s punishment a couple of weeks early.’

Ah. They’d apparently moved on to a different subject.

‘I’ll tell him tomorrow,’ he said irritably. ‘Now I’m for bed.’

‘Good,’ she said, folding her arms and giving him a severe look. ‘Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be in a better mood.’

Lucius frowned, but he couldn’t really blame her for it. A part of him wanted to apologise for his remarks, but another part of him was still stinging over _hers_ \--political agenda, indeed! Harry was not a pawn, and he was affronted at the suggestion that he thought of him as such.

So, rather than apologise, he simply agreed and followed her out of his study, separating quickly and heading for his rooms. Sleep could only help.

.

\-------------------------

.

The next day, classes and mealtimes went on as usual, except that Abraxas attended all of them, making Harry quiet and fidgety. Lucius did his best to interfere with his father’s view of Harry--he didn’t like the sudden attention he paid to Harry, his eyes calculating. Lupin and Severus came to dinner, and they, too, seemed to note it, although Abraxas spent almost as much time sneering hatefully at them.

Honestly, Lucius wasn’t overly fond of the two half-bloods, either, but they were guests. Even a Mudblood at his table would have been treated with cool civility, if they had been invited, most likely due to Lucius completely losing his mind. The least his father could have done was not glare at them.

Lupin didn’t seem to care--in fact, he kept purposely drawing attention to himself, probably to keep Abraxas from staring at Harry. Lucius approved despite himself, and showed it by letting the wolf stay for a brandy with him and Severus. They both expressed concern over Abraxas’s behaviour.

‘I am aware,’ Lucius sighed heavily, ‘but I’m unsure of how to react. He hasn’t done anything overt, that I can tell, and…well, he’s my father. I can’t exactly scold him for staring, no matter how much I’d like to.’

Severus sneered into his brandy, muttering, as he hadn’t been raised with any such respect for his elders, and probably only held his tongue with Abraxas because he was a guest. Even _Severus_ had that tiny modicum of manners--although it had taken Lucius years to instill it in him, through a series of shouting matches, mostly.

Lupin smiled sympathetically. ‘All any of us can do is continue to keep our eyes open.’

Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgement, and not long after, Lupin returned to his post outside the wards, and Severus returned to Hogwarts. Exam time was nearly upon him, and he could only spare a night or two a week with them.

It was nearing the boys’ bedtime when Lucius heard a tentative knock at his study door. Draco never knocked, and Narcissa would have been bolder.

‘Come in, Harry,’ Lucius said, unaware that he was smiling already.

The messy black head poked inside. ‘How did you know it was me?’

‘I have my ways. I believe I said “come in,” not “stand in the doorway.”’

Harry sheepishly entered, ducking his head, and came to the front of the desk. He was carrying a messily wrapped package, his cheeks pink, and he kept shooting Lucius nervous glances.

Lucius chose to ignore the behaviour for now, hoping Harry would calm on his own.

‘I heard you met Mr Parkinson yesterday,’ he said instead. ‘Would you mind telling me what happened?’

As expected, Harry launched into a full and complete accounting of the short encounter, and his nerves did seem to subside as he retold it. He didn’t seem overly afraid of Peyton, either, just suitably wary.

‘I don’t know what he was going to do,’ Harry concluded. ‘I’m just glad Neville showed up when he did, because I don’t think it was anything nice.’

Lucius grimaced in agreement. Given his comment about Harry having an ‘accident,’ he wasn’t likely planning to murder or abduct him, or do anything too overt, but he had obviously been intending Harry harm of some kind. Lucius would not stand for it--he made a mental note to keep a close eye on Peyton at Draco’s party.

‘I’m very glad, as well. Are you and young Mr Longbottom intending to continue your acquaintance?’

Harry’s nose scrunched.

‘Are you and Neville going to speak again?’ Lucius clarified gently.

‘Oh! Well, we’re going to write to each other. If that’s okay, I mean,’ he added quickly.

‘Of course. It would be good for you to develop a friendship with another boy your age. You and Neville and Draco will all be in the same class. Neville’s birthday is the day before yours, I believe,’ he said with a deliberately casual air.

Harry’s eyes lit up. ‘Really? That’s funny! I wish I’d known--I would have got him a birthday present, too.’

‘I’m certain you will have another opportunity to shop for him.’ He scowled. ‘With me along, this time.’

‘I’d like that,’ Harry said shyly, fidgeting with a loose flap on his package.

Lucius forced himself to relax. ‘Well. Anyway, I shouldn’t worry overly much about Mr Parkinson, if I were you. He’s a coward, so as long as you’re not alone with him, you’ll be quite safe.’

He didn’t mention his worries about the party to Harry--he couldn’t exactly cancel without creating the mother of all tantrums, particularly now that an elated Draco knew that he was having one, and would cease to be grounded the day before. Still, there were going to be a great many Death Eaters (and, like Peyton Parkinson, less openly committed supporters of the Dark Lord) at the party, all of whom bore Harry ill will to some level or another. Lucius was more anxious than he cared to admit over his chances of protecting Harry from all of them without using a sticking charm to attach the poor boy to his side.

The children were only of slightly less concern--they didn’t know the hexes and curses their parents knew, and had no wand to perform them, but were equally capable of hurting Harry in other ways. His only hope on that front was that Draco, who viewed Harry as _his_ , would keep the children in line. Draco didn’t mind sharing, but he’d never liked it when other children broke or lost his toys, and though it made Lucius want to shake Draco with frustration, in many ways, his son looked on Harry as one of his toys--simply larger and more unruly than most. It had yet to fully sink in that Harry was another boy, like himself, with his own thoughts and feelings and opinions. Lucius only hoped it wouldn’t take a full-fledged screaming, crying meltdown on either boy’s part to bring the message home.

‘I bought you a present,’ Harry suddenly blurted, sliding the package onto the desk.

Lucius blinked. He’d thought it was one of Draco’s presents, and that Harry was working up to asking for help in re-wrapping it. Gift wrapping was clearly not one of Dobby’s talents.

‘What…. I mean, thank you, but whatever for?’ he asked awkwardly, gingerly pulling the package closer.

Harry squirmed, staring at the toes of his shoes and twisting his fingers. ‘Well, it’s a thank you gift. I know Godric’s Hollow is a scary place, and I really, really appreciated all the stu--things you brought back from there.’

It was a struggle for Lucius to maintain his composure. He felt a real warmth for Harry--he really was a sweet child. Those awful Muggles might have known, if they’d shown him even a crumb of kindness. He only wanted a little care, and for his childish affection to be accepted.

The book itself--a tome on flowers and their origins and meanings--was less important to Lucius than the gesture behind it. He had little use for the book, although it, too, showed how deeply Harry took everything to heart. He’d clearly enjoyed their evening walks in the garden, usually on Sundays, when Severus and the wolf were absent, and Lucius decided he would not only continue the habit, but stick to it more firmly. It was important for Harry to have a little one-on-one time with him and with Narcissa each, without Draco, and he thought it obvious that Harry did not take such moments for granted, making him worthy of the effort.

With all this in mind, Lucius allowed himself to show Harry a real smile, unshadowed and unrestrained. Harry immediately lit up, grinning a bit dazedly.

‘Thank you, Harry,’ he said quietly, unwarding his desk drawer to place the book inside it. ‘It’s very nice.’

‘You like it? I hoped you would! Neville helped me pick it out,’ Harry babbled excitedly. ‘I had three different flower books, but he said that one was newest, so I thought maybe you wouldn’t already have that one. You have so many books that it’s hard to--what’s that noise?’

Lucius paused, watching Harry’s expression. He was guilelessly looking around, curious but slightly irritated.

‘What noise?’ Lucius asked, as he really didn’t hear a thing.

‘That funny whispering noise,’ Harry said, his tone slightly exasperated. ‘Don’t you hear it?’

There were very few things in this particular drawer--the book Harry had just given him, his Hogwarts tie, one of his mother’s necklaces--mostly things of importance that he wanted to hide nearby, rather than all the way in Gringotts, necessitating a trip to Diagon Alley merely for a keepsake.

And there was one item that was not important to Lucius on a personal level, but he believed strongly in hiding things in plain sight. It was this item which had led him to discover his former lord’s true identity as a half-blood pretender--a strange diary, emanating a dark sort of power. He kept _that_ in his desk drawer because no one would suspect it, where they might suspect it in his vault, and also because he wanted to keep it close by. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to keep a close watch on a diary--it wasn’t going to get up and walk off, was it?--but he did, and was comforted.

Before. Now, he would move it elsewhere.

‘I don’t hear anything,’ he said calmly, and shut the drawer.

Harry’s expression cleared. ‘Oh, well. It’s gone now.’

‘Probably one of my alarms,’ Lucius assured him. ‘I’ll look into it after you’ve gone to bed,’ he added, pointedly nodding toward the clock.

Harry grinned guiltily. ‘Oh--oops. Narcissa’s probably waiting for me.’

‘Most li--oof.’

He’d been abruptly squeezed around the middle again by an overzealous Harry. He found, to his surprise, that he didn’t really mind, and patted Harry’s head.

‘Good night, Cousin Lucius,’ Harry said shyly, when he’d finished trying to leave an impression of himself on Lucius’s waist.

Lucius tweaked his nose and gently nudged him away, toward the door. ‘Good night, Harry.’

Harry beamed and scampered out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

Lucius waited until his footsteps could no longer be heard before moving back to his desk, carefully removing the diary and creeping through the halls, keeping a wary eye out for his father.

.

\------------------

.

Arthur frowned at Remus Lupin as several of his children ran around the table, shrieking at high volume. Bill, who was just finishing up his last year at Hogwarts, Charlie, and Percy hadn’t returned from school yet, although they would be back in a few days. The rest of them were creating more than enough havoc on their own, overly excited by their brothers’ imminent return. Arthur didn’t normally begrudge them that, but the conversation he was about to have was both private and better conducted in quiet.

He’d had no clear plan when he invited Remus over for dinner--outwardly, it was to give Remus a break from patrolling the Malfoys’ property. Really, though, it was that he wanted to discuss a piece of information he’d found with someone who wasn’t likely to go running straight to Dumbledore. Severus wasn’t exactly approachable, and Kingsley and Moody were unfailingly loyal to Albus. Remus always had been a steadfast servant for Dumbledore, too, until recently. Ever since he’d been assigned to guard Malfoy Manor, watching for an opportunity to kidnap Harry (an opportunity that they all knew would never come--Lucius was too careful), Remus had been quiet at meetings, avoiding their eyes in an almost…guilty manner.

He knew the feeling. Arthur had been wrestling with this information for over a week now, his conscience pricking at him no matter what solution he came up with. Molly had tried to help, but in the end, she had agreed that they needed an outside opinion, as neither of them were certain of what the right answer was. They only wanted what was best, but it was increasingly difficult to say just what _was_ best.

Ron, breathless, red-faced, and sweating, abruptly stopped beside Remus. ‘Are you staying overnight?’ he asked excitedly between pants. ‘Are we having a sleepover?!’

A cheer went up from Ginny, Fred, and George at the very idea.

Remus smiled wanly. ‘I’m afraid not tonight, Ron. I have to work tomorrow.’

The children groaned collectively.

‘Maybe another time,’ Remus offered with a mild smile, and they immediately perked up.

‘Did you see the papers?’ Ron asked abruptly, enjoying the attention, as Remus was addressing him alone (naturally, since he was the one asking the questions). ‘Harry Potter’s been in it a lot! He’s with the nasty old Malfoys. Everybody knows they were in deep with You-Know-Who, and they do lots of Dark magic. Fred and George said that’s how they make their food--they eat Dark spells! I bet Dad’ll get ’im away from them, though, won’t you, Dad?’

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. ‘That’s not really my department, Ron. It’s the Child Welfare Office’s job, remember?’

He could feel Remus’s gaze on him, but he still didn’t want to have that conversation in front of his children. Fortunately, his wife came to the rescue.

‘All right, that’s enough out of you lot, upstairs with you!’ Molly clucked as she emerged from the kitchen. ‘Get ready for bed, lights out in twenty minutes! And if you forget to wash your faces, I’ll know! I’ll be checking under fingernails as well!’

They all scampered for the stairs, terrified at the idea of being caught with dirt under their fingernails, despite the fact that the worst Molly had ever done was make them wash their hands again and again until they were clean. She shot him a meaningful glance before heading up after them, making certain there would be no eavesdroppers.

Remus’s brow was raised. ‘They _eat_ Dark spells?’ he repeated, his tone faintly amused.

Arthur grimaced. ‘Fred and George are always making up ridiculous stories to tell Ron, and the poor boy never learns--he believes them every time, even though they’ve played a lot of cruel tricks on him. We’ve tried to curb their wilder excesses, but I’m afraid we were too late in noticing what mischief makers they’d become. Fred, in particular, comes up with a lot of pranks that are less funny and more cruel--by the by, never mention spiders to Ron.’

Remus blinked. ‘Noted.’

‘Well, since we seem to have a little privacy for the moment….’ Arthur cleared his throat and looked around cautiously, waiting for one of the boys to come falling out of a cupboard or some other poor hiding spot. ‘I wanted to ask your advice about something.’

The younger wizard’s brows rose in open surprise. ‘ _My_ advice?’

‘Yes, I…. You haven’t seemed…all that enthusiastic about Dumbledore’s plans of late,’ he said quietly, wincing a bit. ‘And what I’ve discovered, it…I don’t think Dumbledore would approve, exactly. I wanted to talk to someone who wouldn’t immediately take his side, but rather might think it over first.’

Remus absorbed that, and then nodded. ‘I understand. I won’t go running off to him, though I can’t promise I’ll have anything helpful for you.’

‘Fair enough.’ He tapped his empty cup on the table as he gathered his thoughts. ‘I have discovered a way for the Malfoys to keep Harry without the…bother of applying for permanent guardianship.’

Remus tilted his head, brow furrowing. ‘The bother? Is it difficult?’

Arthur smiled faintly. ‘Very. As far as I’ve been able to find out, Lucius hasn’t attempted to apply for it at all, and with ample reason. For one thing, the Child Welfare Office conducts a full and complete investigation--they look at all criminal records; they have every member of your family report to St Mungo’s for a full workup, seeking signs of Dark magic or coercion; they check your Gringotts records to make sure you’re not getting any income from shady sources, nor have paid out large sums to any businesses on Knockturn Alley or other less than reputable businesses. Most importantly, while you’re at St Mungo’s, they demand that you lower the wards on your home, and they send in Aurors to do a complete and thorough inspection of your property, searching for Dark objects. Every nook and cranny, no stone unturned. It supposedly makes my department’s raids look like a pleasant stop for tea and a chat.’

Remus had paled by the end. ‘And with Abraxas still in residence--well, even if Lucius could convince him to go to St Mungo’s for the workup, they would never pass the home inspection.’

‘Exactly. And even if, by some miracle, the Malfoys managed to pass all of those investigations, it is still at the Wizengamot’s discretion to approve or disapprove of the Child Welfare Office’s findings and recommendations.’

‘Lucius could bribe them,’ Remus said, almost hopefully. ‘He’s probably already bribed the Child Welfare Office, knowing him.’

Arthur shrugged. ‘Maybe, but even then, he’s not likely to manage better than a fifty-fifty vote. There are too many of the old guard still retaining their seats on the Wizengamot, and they distrust Lucius greatly. It’s possible he might win them over, but Lucius isn’t a risk-taker, in my experience.’

‘But you said you’d discovered a way around it?’

Arthur drew a breath, shoving up his glasses. ‘Yes, I…I think so, anyway. What do you know about adoption?’

Remus frowned in thought. ‘Not much. Muggles do it often enough, and it seems to be fairly expensive and difficult for them. Wizards do it rarely, at least in this country. A permanent guardianship fills the same purpose, or at least very nearly, to the point that when we say “adopt,” that’s usually what we mean, so it always seemed like it was probably the easier option, to me--at least, until you just told me all of the investigating involved.’

‘We do it rarely because it’s a magical ritual, for us,’ Arthur explained, glancing at the stairs again to check for eavesdroppers--it was just too quiet upstairs for his taste. Either they’d slipped past Molly, or she’d terrified them into silent obedience. He wasn’t sure which to bet on. ‘It isn’t talked about much, partly because it’s blood magic. Nothing too involved, but that and the requirement that a goblin must be present is enough to put most people off.’

Remus straightened, tensing. ‘Blood magic? Then it’s not reversible.’

‘No, it isn’t. All it is, apparently, is that one of the two adopting parents and the child to be adopted slice open their palms, press their palms together so the blood touches, and repeat ritual words to seal it. It’s not a dangerous type, but like some of the more harmless Dark spells, it makes people nervous just due to its category,’ Arthur said, shrugging. ‘Besides the presence of a goblin witness, and the ritual, the other requirement is that all parties must be willing, even those members of the family who are not present. The magic will sense if there’s dissent and reject the adoption.’

The younger wizard relaxed then. ‘Abraxas would never consent, even if the rest of the family did.’

Arthur shook his head. ‘Not extended family, just the main family. The ritual wasn’t designed to account for grandparents or aunts or uncles, just the adoptee and the immediate family adopting. Only Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco need to want it for it to work. Well, and Harry, of course, but based on what Rita Skeeter’s been writing lately, I doubt any of them will be a problem.’

Remus’s mouth twitched. ‘I haven’t been able to afford the _Prophet_ lately….’

‘Oh. Well.’ He looked around, but there weren’t any papers in sight. Probably Fred and George had made off with them. ‘She’s been reporting on Harry’s condition, unlike everyone else, and much as I hate to admit it, he does seem happy. The Malfoys seem to have been taking good care of him--Molly reads Rita Skeeter more than I do, and she says Skeeter was really skeptical at first, but even she seems to be coming around, so it must be pretty obvious. I’ve mostly looked at the pictures, and he, uh…he sticks very close to Lucius, doesn’t he?’

Arthur had to try very hard not to smile at that. The photo of Lucius and Harry at Fortescue’s, with Harry diligently licking a melting cone and Lucius looking on with an odd sort of expression that Arthur had never seen on his face--it had confused him for a long time, but eventually Molly had said, ‘He almost looks…happy.’ She’d meant Harry, as she and Rita Skeeter had not quite believed it yet, but Arthur looked at Lucius in the photograph, and he was smiling, _really_ smiling, without a trace of his usual cold arrogance, and he’d realised that Lucius was happy, too.

It had come as quite a shock. He hadn’t truly believed it until the next picture, when the exact same expression appeared on Lucius’s face as he stood gazing down at Harry and Draco, peering in the window at the Quidditch shop. Every photograph thereafter had only confirmed it--Lucius was happy with Harry, and Harry was happy with Lucius. Even Narcissa had appeared to be smiling-- _smiling!_ \--in one of the pictures.

Remus’s expression was cautious. ‘I haven’t seen the pictures….’

‘Oh, right, of course not,’ Arthur said guiltily. He’d forgotten all Remus had for a view was the walls and hedges round the Malfoy estate. ‘Harry is never far from Lucius in any of the pictures. He’s holding onto his robe or his hand more often than not, in fact.’

Remus nodded, his scarred face puckering with his frown. A silence fell between them for a moment. Arthur took the opportunity to pour them both a finger of Firewhisky--a rarely-indulged treat in the Weasley household, since he only partook when the children were abed and he had a guest, like now, but that only made it taste all the better.

‘I don’t see where you would need advice,’ Remus said at length, his brows so furrowed that they appeared to meet, briefly reminding Arthur of the old tales about werewolves--they were always clearly identifiable in human form by their unibrows.

He shook his head of the thought, knowing Remus would not appreciate the humour he saw in it.

‘I’m not sure whether or not I should tell Dumbledore, so he can do…whatever it is he’ll choose to do about it, to keep Lucius from it,’ Arthur admitted lowly.

Remus’s expression smoothed into blandness, and his tone was calm when he spoke.

‘Why wouldn’t you tell Dumbledore?’

Arthur sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. This was the truly difficult part.

‘I…I am not sure,’ he began slowly, carefully, ‘that I agree with him, anymore. About taking Harry from the Malfoys and placing him back with the Dursleys.’

Remus’s brows lifted slightly, but it seemed almost mechanical, like he was forcing himself to react in a controlled way. Arthur brushed off the impression--it was probably his own guilty conscience. He desperately hoped he hadn’t made a mistake.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I….’ Arthur tried not to fidget, but found it nearly impossible under Remus’s flat amber stare. ‘Moody and Kingsley were too conspicuous around the Child Welfare Office, so they asked me to get a copy of the investigation records thus far. I got the copy, but it was another day before I could make contact, so I peeked a bit. They’ve been using compulsion charms to get the Dursleys to admit to Harry’s living conditions. Remus, they starved him and let their son beat him, and I…. Dumbledore’s a great man, but I can’t see sending any child back into that--not knowingly.’

Remus blinked slowly and lazily, like a wolf who’s just finished a large meal and is more interested in a nap than in eating you at the moment.

‘And you think he would?’ he asked, and there was a hint of a growl in his voice now.

Arthur shivered. ‘I think that Dumbledore will do whatever he feels necessary to secure You-Know-Who’s defeat,’ he said quietly but firmly. ‘For whatever reason, he thinks Harry must be with the Dursleys for that to happen.’

Remus regarded him for a long moment, his expression still remote. Arthur was just beginning to contemplate how he could salvage this mess when the younger wizard nodded, his face relaxing into a more human grimace.

‘I agree,’ he said sadly. ‘So you think we shouldn’t let Dumbledore know about the possibility of adoption? Don’t you think he already knows? Or if he doesn’t, someone could tell him--maybe Kingsley.’

Arthur sighed. ‘He probably does, but he has a lot on his mind. If we don’t bring it to his attention, it’s unlikely he’ll do anything to actively prevent it, but there’s no way to be sure, that way. And I’m not really sure how we could keep anyone else from bringing it up--I was thinking we could instead convince him that Lucius would never consider it, but I don’t know how.’

To his surprise, Remus immediately smiled, brightening.

‘Well, of course, we tell Severus about it.’

Arthur blinked, dumbfounded. ‘Severus? How would that help?’

‘He pretends to go talk to Lucius about it, then comes back and tells Dumbledore that Lucius reacted with disgust and would never do such a thing.’

‘Oh.’

Molly appeared then, smiling, having obviously heard the tail end of the conversation. ‘What did I tell you? I knew Remus would think of something.’


	12. Crash Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco convinces Lucius to go flying with him and Harry, but things turn sour when Harry is better at it than Draco expected....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco's issues coming to a head, I guess you could say. Lots of childish angst ahead, I'm afraid.
> 
> Feedback of any kind is always welcome. Hope you enjoy! :)

Lessons _finally_ ended the Friday before Draco’s birthday, which had fallen on a Sunday. His father had also allowed his punishment to end that day, even though it was supposed to have lasted for another two weeks, so on Saturday, Draco was free at last, with the whole summer before him. The weather was beautiful, and after spending a month and a half cooped up in the house, he was absolutely itching to get out, and he knew the perfect activity to cure the itch.

‘Father, will you _please_ let Harry and me fly today?’ he burst out at breakfast, unable to hold it in for longer than that. ‘Harry’s never been on his broom and this time Mother’s here to watch, and we’ll come in when she says and everything, and I--’

Lucius held up his hand, and Draco’s mouth clicked shut. He belatedly realised that he’d just admitted that Harry hadn’t broken the rules before, but his father didn’t seem concerned about that. In fact, he seemed amused. He’d been in a fairly good mood ever since he recovered from his courageous foray into Godric’s Hollow--a fact Draco and Harry were still a bit in awe over. They’d spent several evenings whispering together, trying to reconstruct how it must have happened. Despite his father’s insistence that it hadn’t involved any fighting, they were both convinced that he’d had to face down the Dark Lord’s ghost, and maybe a ghoul or two as well. The house itself had probably become a sentient monster and tried to kill him, most likely.

‘I don’t think it’s wise for Harry to try to keep up with you without a single lesson, _but_ ,’ he added loudly over Draco’s automatic whine, ‘I can afford to take a day off. It is quite lovely today, so I don’t see why I couldn’t give him a quick lesson before you play.’

Draco and Harry exchanged grins--time with Lucius was always welcome, and outside of lessons, a rare commodity during the school year. They’d see a bit more of him now that summer was on, but since he still had work to do even in summer, not _much_ more.

‘Groovy!’ Draco cried, trying out a bit of outdated Muggle slang Harry had taught him--after all, he wasn’t supposed to say ‘wicked’ or ‘brilliant.’

Harry gave him a nod and a thumbs up to show his approval of his usage, but his parents exchanged utterly dumbfounded glances. Draco waited to be scolded, but after a moment, Lucius just went back to his paper, still blinking in confusion, and Narcissa merely shook her head and turned her attention to her food. He grinned, delighted with getting away with a slang word, even if it _was_ a Muggle one.

‘Will Remus and Professor Snape ever fly with us?’ Harry wondered.

Draco shrugged. ‘Maybe. Uncle Severus is a pretty good flyer, although he’s not as good as Father.’

Lucius’s paper rustled, but he made no comment.

‘I only met Moony when you did, so I don’t know if he flies,’ Draco went on. He was the only one who’d availed himself of the cool nickname, though he had no idea why. Remus seemed to like it. ‘We can ask him, the next time we see him.’

After breakfast, Draco led Harry upstairs to change into their flying robes, and then had to wait impatiently for Harry to hurry up and _finish dressing already_! Draco was at a constant loss as to how Harry could spend so long dressing and grooming himself, only to come out of his room and still look like he’d rolled down a hill, wrestled a hippogriff, and then rubbed the top of his head against the carpet repeatedly. Tomorrow was Draco’s birthday party, and he’d already decided that he would personally oversee Harry’s appearance, so his cousin wouldn’t embarrass him in front of his friends. Today, though, Draco didn’t care what Harry looked like, he just wanted him to hurry up!

At long, _long_ last, Harry emerged from his bathroom, still fiddling with the ties of his oversized Quidditch robes. Narcissa helped him, to Draco’s relief, and then Draco herded his family out to the pitch. It wasn’t a proper pitch, of course--more like a half-size one--but it worked well enough for their purposes.

Draco’s great-grandfather, Lucius’s grandfather, had put it in for Lucius’s mother--Abraxas had never been fond of flying, and was even rather dangerously clumsy at it, but she had been quite skilled, according to Lucius. It was one of the reasons Lucius always softened about Draco’s love of flying--he’d told Draco once that his enthusiasm for it reminded him of his mother, at times. Draco had felt oddly warm and goopy inside, and even though he’d never tell anyone else, his love of Quidditch and his love of flying were separate from then on--he loved Quidditch because he loved the sport in it, the bloodthirsty competitiveness. He loved flying, just flying, because it made him feel closer to the grandmother he’d never met.

That feeling came back to him as soon as his broom was in his hand again. He couldn’t help his smile, and both of his parents looked at him without annoyance for the first time in weeks.

Narcissa settled into one of the lawn chairs at the edge of the pitch; she’d brought a book to read while they flew. Draco had once asked Lucius why his mother never flew with them, and his father had only turned red and muttered something, so he assumed she must not be very good at it. That was all right with Draco--he preferred to have his mother nearby in a good position to watch, just in case he did something cool.

Harry’s broom was laid on the ground, and Lucius began instructing him in how to call it into his hand. Draco didn’t pay much attention to that--it had taken him three attempts to get his own broom to shoot up, into his hand, and Lucius had told him that most children took seven or eight attempts. He expected to be waiting a while.

A loud SMACK and the sound of his father’s surprised bark of laughter made him whip around. His mother clapped a little, but Draco just stared--Harry had managed it on the _first try_! How had he managed it on the first try? _No one_ got it the first time! It wasn’t fair!

‘Beginner’s luck,’ Draco sneered. ‘Wait til you’re in the air.’

Harry gulped--he was sort of pale, like he hadn’t quite expected the broom to actually move.

‘Draco,’ Lucius said, a gentle warning for now.

Draco sniffed, too angry to heed his father’s tone. ‘Well, come on, then. Leg over.’

Harry obeyed, and Draco pushed off, leaving his father to continue the lesson. He did a few laps around the pitch before circling back to watch as Lucius finished instructing Harry on the finer points of takeoff. He watched Harry nod, and then Lucius lifted off, staying nearby in case Harry needed more help. He’d done the same thing when he taught Draco, except Draco hadn’t really needed him, he thought smugly. He’d taken to flying like a duck to water, after a single false start. His father hadn’t said he was proud, but Draco had felt it anyway, seen it in Lucius’s bright eyes.

These happy thoughts were spoiled when Harry fairly rocketed off the ground, quickly and smoothly rising to Draco’s level, looping around him once, and taking off toward the other end of the pitch. Draco watched, slack-jawed, as his cousin zig-zagged lazily through the hoops at speeds that should have been dangerous for a beginner, performing manoeuvres it had taken Draco several years to perfect.

Lucius quickly rose to their level, and he was chuckling-- _chuckling_.

‘You’re a natural, Harry!’ he called brightly.

Draco heard his mother still clapping for Harry. For the first time in his young life, Draco felt _rage_ \--not childish anger, easily vented through a screaming tantrum, but hot, black rage. It seemed to squeeze and constrict in his chest, blazing out of his eyes so they stung, his every breath feeling so hot that he was surprised not to see smoke.

Flying was _his_ \-- _HIS_.

Why did Harry have to have _everything_? Why did _Harry_ have to be good at _everything_?!

Why couldn’t Draco have just this _one thing_ for himself?!

He was on the ground before he realised what he was doing, throwing his broom in the general direction of the broom shed.

‘Draco!’ Narcissa cried, surprised, but he stormed past her.

He didn’t want to be comforted. He most definitely didn’t want to be _scolded_. He wanted to be left alone.

‘Draco!’

His father, this time, his tone sharp and cold in that way that promised immediate punishment.

Draco ignored him, too, clenching his fists until he could feel the blood pounding in his fingers, his jaw until it ached. He just kept going toward the house, intent on making it back to his room, where he could barricade the doors and--and be alone.

There was a swoosh of air overhead, and Harry lightly landed in front of him, stumbling backward a bit when Draco didn’t pause. His green eyes were wide, his face earnest, and Draco _hated_ him for it. How _dare_ he come acting all sorry after stealing the only thing Draco really loved?

For a moment, Draco seriously considered punching Harry. Only the thought of what his parents might do to him stayed his fist.

‘Draco, will you stop for a second?’ Harry cried, thoroughly flustered, dropping his broom as he tried to keep up with Draco while walking backward.

Draco shot him the ugliest glare he could muster and walked faster, shouldering around him.

Harry followed. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, okay? I don’t know how that happened--it was like I got on the broom and I just _knew_ \--’

‘I don’t care,’ Draco ground out, his jaw still tightly clenched.

‘I can’t help it,’ Harry said helplessly. ‘It’s not like I was _trying_ to show you up. I’m really, really sorry!’

Draco whirled and shoved him, hard, and took dark satisfaction when Harry stumbled and fell on his back, staring up at him with a wounded expression.

‘Stay away from me, _Potter_ ,’ he snarled, and continued on as fast as he could--he’d heard their shouts when Harry fell, so he knew his parents weren’t far behind and had seen him shove Harry.

Still, blockhead Harry just wouldn’t take a hint, and Draco hadn’t made it far into the house before he heard Harry’s running footsteps behind him. Draco broke into a sprint, even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to run in the house-- _perfect Harry_ was doing it, so why not?--and just managed to slam and lock his door before Harry could get there. He heard the thump of Harry’s feet again and only just remembered the door between their sitting rooms, pouncing and locking it just when Harry started to turn the handle.

‘ _Draco_!’ Harry howled indignantly. ‘Draco, you’re being ridiculous! Why won’t you just talk to me? I’ve already said I’m sorry, what more can I do?’

‘LEAVE ME ALONE!’ Draco shouted at the top of his lungs, and felt rather shaky and pleased after the words were out.

There was a pause from the other side of the door.

‘FINE!’ Harry shouted back. ‘Just--just _be_ that way! I don’t want to talk to you, either! Dudley the Second!’

Draco couldn’t help a flinch at that--he had shoved Harry, but he didn’t think that deserved comparisons to Harry’s nasty Muggle cousin. It wasn’t like he’d got a gang together and beat him up. He would never do that, no matter how angry he was.

Still, he could hear Harry stomping away from the door, and the slam of his bedroom door, and that meant he was going to finally leave Draco alone, just like he wanted.

Chest heaving and his muscles shaking a bit, Draco looked around quickly. It wouldn’t be long before his parents would catch up to them, and unlike Harry, they would not be stumped by a mere lock--and also unlike Harry, they were most definitely not coming to apologise. He was a bit terrified of what they had to say to him, actually. He couldn’t budge his toy chests, but he did manage to shove his table in front of the door that connected him to Harry, and he stuck one of his chairs under the handle of the door to the hallway.

There. That way, if they wanted to come in, they’d have to blast the door off its hinges and the furniture out of the way--plenty of time for Draco to hide, if necessary. Of course, there were spells for finding people, too, particularly in small areas.

Draco swallowed hard, the rage in his chest abruptly melting into a brick of dread in his gut. He felt like he couldn’t breathe properly. What had he been thinking, shoving Harry? They might have forgiven everything else, but he’d _shoved Harry_. He’d knocked him down. What would they do to him?

He sat on the floor, pressing his hands under his legs, listening to his own breathing, oddly loud in the silence.

He could hear steps in the hallway, steady and drawing closer. Father, not Mother--he knew the measure of their steps, and this was definitely his father headed this way. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might break his ribs.

Draco held his breath when his father stopped just outside his door. The handle jiggled, and then there was a light knock.

‘Draco?’ Lucius called calmly when Draco didn’t answer.

Draco bit his tongue on a whimper and drew his knees to his chest. His father didn’t _sound_ angry, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

‘All right, Draco,’ Lucius said after a long moment, still sounding perfectly calm. ‘Your mother says you need some time to cool off. You take whatever time you need--when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be downstairs.’

And then his father really did walk away.

Draco sat on the floor and tried to figure out what had just happened--he had no precedent for this. Whenever he’d done anything this bad in the past, he was given a _severe_ ticking off, usually yelled rather than spoken. Lucius was behaving in unprecedented ways in general--up until the punishment he’d just finished, he’d never been forced to do chores, either. He didn’t know how to handle it, and wasn’t sure what it meant.

It had all started when _Harry_ came. Saint Harry, with his _perfect_ marks and _perfect_ behaviour and _perfect_ flying technique. _He_ hadn’t been grounded, despite Draco’s weak attempt to implicate him.

Draco could faintly hear Harry’s voice, muffled by the two doors and room between them. Narcissa hadn’t come down to Draco’s door, she’d sent Lucius and gone to Harry. Lucius was lying in wait for Draco to drop his guard and come out, to strike and punish him for hurting Harry, he just knew it.

Harry.

Harry, Harry, _Harry_.

Draco wished he’d never come. He’d ruined _everything_. His parents didn’t even really love him anymore, because why would they when they had _perfect Saint Harry_?

Tears stung his eyes as his rage and frustration rose again, and filled with restless agitation, he got to his feet and looked around his room. There were Quidditch and broom things everywhere he looked, and for the first time ever, he felt sick when he looked at them. Everything he saw reminded him of Harry.

He was tearing at the walls before he knew what he was doing, ripping down posters and hanging toys, knocking things off the shelves. He shredded the posters, threw his Quidditch books in the empty fireplace, emptied his toy chests of everything that involved a broom, threw them on the floor to break them, and stomped on them if that didn’t work. One toy was charmed to be unbreakable, and Draco screamed with frustration when even throwing it at the wall only resulted in a bent arm.

There was another light knock at the connecting door.

‘Draco?’ his mother called softly. ‘Are you all right in there?’

The tears suddenly overwhelmed him. Sniffling, Draco stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door so his mother wouldn’t hear him cry. To his shame, he still had the stuffed toy Kneazle he’d had since he was a toddler (he was to be eight years old tomorrow, certainly too old for _baby_ toys!), but in this moment, it was a comfort. He curled up in bed, hugging the bedraggled Kneazle close, and gave himself over to the baby-ish tears, even though he felt humiliated for crying.

He would start being a _real_ eight-year-old tomorrow, he consoled himself. For today, he was still technically seven, so it was okay to cry.

.

\---------------------

.

Harry was in tears, too, although he was doing his best to resist them, stubbornly blinking and sniffling and wiping his face on his sleeve. Narcissa, for once, didn’t admonish him, seeming to feel he was too upset to bother about handkerchiefs for the moment. Instead, she was talking to him in soft, crooning tones, trying to convince him to talk to Draco, since he hadn’t answered her when she went to find out if he was okay, after they heard crashing and Draco scream once.

‘I already did try,’ he sniffled obstinately. ‘I tried really hard, and he shut the door in my face and shouted at me.’ His chin quivered, but he pressed his lips together to quell it. ‘I don’t care anyway! I don’t care if he never speaks to me again. He can--he can just _stay_ in his room, for all I care! He’s a git!’

Narcissa sighed. ‘I understand, you’re upset right now. Just give him a little time--I’m sure he’ll say he’s sorry tomorrow.’

Harry scowled, angrily wiping his face again. ‘Only ’cause it’s his birthday, and he won’t want me to ruin the party,’ he said, not making any attempt to hide his bitterness.

She gave him a very sad look, and Harry was almost sorry for what he’d said. But he wouldn’t lie to her, either, and he was so angry with Draco that right now, he felt like he could very happily never see him again.

Truthfully, deep down, he was just hurt that his apologies had been so cruelly rejected, but he was too angry to admit it to himself. It was why he’d lashed out and called Draco ‘Dudley the Second’--he’d felt just as shunned by Draco as he always had by Dudley, and it had hurt him deeply, down in the secret place where Harry had always felt a little flicker of hope that the Dursleys might wake up one day and like him, just a little. He didn’t think it out rationally, but Harry had already decided to be angry with Draco for as long as Draco continued to spurn his apologies.

Narcissa opened her mouth, but a tentative knock at the door cut off anything she might have had to say. They both looked up hopefully, but it was Lucius, not Draco, standing in the doorway, his face twisted into a sad smile, as though he knew he was not who they were hoping for.

‘Draco still won’t come out?’ Lucius asked quietly.

Harry sullenly turned to picking at his blankets. He didn’t want to talk about Draco anymore.

Narcissa shook her head silently.

Lucius paused. ‘Harry, did you still want to go flying?’ he offered gently.

Harry’s face crumpled with disgust, and he shook his head, turning away and sniffling. He didn’t think he’d ever want to go flying again--it had felt amazing while he was on the broom, like he’d finally found where he belonged, but the aftermath…. Both times he’d been near a broom, it had ended in disaster. It just wasn’t worth it.

‘Okay,’ Lucius said, his voice still soft and gentle.

There was a pause. Harry saw the adults exchange a glance out of the corner of his eye, and then Lucius slipped out silently.

Narcissa touched his arm. ‘Harry,’ she began, and then let out a sigh, as she evidently didn’t know what to say.

Harry just scowled to himself, blinking away any tears that tried to form. He’d be fine. He didn’t need Draco--he’d always been fine on his own. He could find ways to occupy himself without Draco. Maybe this way he’d get more studying done, without Draco interrupting every five minutes? Besides, Neville had written back to Harry twice now, just like he’d promised he would, and Draco probably just would have ruined it, just like Dudley had always ruined every friendship Harry had tried to make.

Yes, he decided. Draco being angry with him was a good thing.

.

\---------------

.

Lucius dropped his quill and rubbed his eyes--it was useless to try working. He couldn’t focus worth a damn.

Today had been an unmitigated disaster. There was no silver lining, that he could see. Harry stubbornly refused to even speak about Draco, and Narcissa had eventually decided to leave him be and try to talk to Draco. Their son hadn’t uttered a peep, and when she had finally lost her patience and decided to use the unlocking spell on the door, she’d discovered that Draco had blocked the door with something.

‘I’ll blast the damned thing in,’ Lucius had growled.

‘No, you won’t!’ Narcissa had snapped in return. ‘Our son is going through something, and he obviously needs time to think it through on his own. He’ll come to us when he’s ready.’

He hadn’t been ready at lunchtime, or at dinner, and it was nearing the boys’ bedtime. Narcissa had quietly reported that she was giving up for the day, and was going to read a story to Harry and Dobby before tucking Harry in for the night.

Harry and Dobby--Lucius had very nearly stormed back upstairs at lunch when Narcissa reported that Harry would only eat if Dobby ate lunch with him upstairs in his sitting room, sitting in a _chair_ , like a _human_. Narcissa had stopped him--again--by pointing out that at least Harry was agreeing to eat something, even if the conditions were puzzling to both of them, which was more than Draco was willing to do. The house elves had reported that he hadn’t touched the plate they sent into his room.

Well, and Lucius had been pretty easily convinced out of his outrage, anyway. He still didn’t quite understand Harry’s friendship with Dobby, and his confusion leached his rage. That and his worry for Draco made it easy for Narcissa to talk him out of going up there to explain matters to Harry--that wizards were _not_ friends with _creatures_ , like house elves. He kept it in mind, but it wasn’t a priority at the moment. At least it kept Harry pacified all day.

Draco was Lucius’s foremost worry for today. He couldn’t understand what had gone so wrong--Draco had _wanted_ Harry to fly with him, just an hour before. He had foreseen them squabbling over points or who had to get the Quaffle when one of them inevitably dropped it--he was already prepared to play referee, and to summon the Quaffle when it fell. He had _not_ foreseen a blow-up wherein Draco threw his beloved broom, shoved Harry, and then locked himself in his room and refused to speak to any of them.

He’d been furious when Draco shoved Harry, and only maintained his calm because he knew Harry needed the reassurance of he and Narcissa remaining so. The course of the day had cooled his fury to the point where now he was simply confused and worried. He wanted answers, and it didn’t seem likely he was going to get them any time soon. The party tomorrow was less than an afterthought--closed wards were an easy, quick way of announcing it was cancelled. It would be more concerning to him if _Draco_ was upset enough to forget about his party. That would be an unprecedented occurrence, and Lucius would ignore Narcissa’s advice and either blast the bloody door down or Apparate straight into the room to check on his son, if he still hadn’t emerged tomorrow.

Disgusted with his distracted state, Lucius finally shook himself of his thoughts and started putting things away for the night. He’d try working tomorrow--today he’d written four letters and had to dispose of all of them because he’d ended up repeating himself at least once in each. He didn’t even want to think about what sort of disaster his figures in the ledger were. He’d go back and fix them when he wasn’t so preoccupied.

A light, tentative knock at the door startled him--Harry would be in bed by now, and Narcissa didn’t generally come down to say goodnight, either. However, Draco never knocked, and neither did house elves. Abraxas, on the extremely rare occasions he saw fit to come out of his lair, didn’t see any need to knock, either, since it was technically his house. Lucius had tried pointing out that it was _his_ study, though, not Abraxas’s, but his father had completely ignored him. Fortunately, he didn’t exercise his ‘right’ to barge in more than twice a year.

There was another knock while Lucius was pondering, this one even lighter.

‘Come in,’ he said quickly.

The door opened, and to Lucius’s combined relief and worry, Draco’s pale, tear-streaked face peered round it. His eyes were wide and appeared nearly colourless in the flickering light from the hearth and few candles.

‘Draco,’ he half-sighed. ‘Come in.’

His son shuffled in, closing the door behind him, and stood hugging himself and staring at the floor, his lips pressed together. He didn’t say anything.

Lucius tilted his head, confused by this behaviour. Draco _always_ had a lot to say--he’d sometimes mused to Narcissa that he wished their son had come outfitted with a ‘mute’ command. Nor did he generally approach Lucius so timidly, even when he was asking for something hugely expensive or dangerous and knew he was likely to get a negative response. This meek, silent, still Draco stood in sharp contrast to the way he’d behaved the last time he got in trouble over flying--how he’d sat in his room playing, unconcerned with Lucius’s reaction, and had shouted the house down about how unfair it was until his mother returned and took Lucius’s side. Outnumbered, Draco had become sullen and stopped shouting, but continued to grumble and act out in other ways.

More importantly, Draco was almost always in _motion_ \--constantly bouncing and fidgeting and shifting and wriggling and squirming. When Lucius wasn’t annoyed, it was almost amusing how active and _alive_ Draco was, and though Lucius would never admit it aloud, it was also comforting, in its way.

Now, Draco stood before him almost as still as a statue, save for a faint tremor running through his frame now and then. At Lucius’s continued silence, Draco braved a quick peek upward, immediately snapping his head down again when his eyes met his father’s, and Lucius realised with something akin to horror that Draco was afraid.

_Afraid_.

Of _him_.

His mind flashed back more than twenty years to his own dealings with Abraxas, when he’d stood terrified after some misdemeanour or other, awaiting the punishment to come. His status as the only heir to the Malfoy name had saved his life, but not his hide, and Lucius had a few small scars despite the potions and poultices he’d used to recover over the years. It only stopped when Lucius turned seventeen--old enough to fight back if he wanted, and he made it plain to his father that very day that he _wanted_. Neither of them desired a duel; Abraxas because he was uncertain of Lucius’s actual power and skill level, so victory was not assured, and Lucius because he wasn’t certain his fussy wand, with its occasional failures and mild dislike of its owner, wouldn’t falter in a serious duel. He tried to avoid all non-practise duels for that reason, finding other ways of defeating his enemies.

Lucius had _never_ dealt with Draco the way his father had dealt with him--a few attention-getting swats to the backside when Draco was very young and not yet comprehending full sentences, just so he would know Lucius was serious when he said no. When Draco was older, he’d threatened a caning after more serious infractions, to try to force Draco to take him and his rules more seriously, but he’d never followed through, particularly after Draco’s prolonged illness as a toddler. As badly as he wished Draco would _listen_ to him when he spoke, and obey his commands, he’d kept it in the back of his mind that what he wanted from Draco was respect, not fear as he’d given his own father, and it had restrained him to a certain extent even in his deepest rage.

It had never occurred to him that he might have failed.

At a loss, Lucius cast around for something to say, something to do--and yet again, Harry presented the solution. Harry was easily frightened, after his horrible upbringing, and Lucius had had to soften his manner considerably in order to deal with him. One thing he’d found was that Harry responded well when Lucius got down to his level and spoke softly.

With this in mind, Lucius slowly lowered himself to one knee and tried to catch Draco’s eye.

‘Draco?’ he said as gently as he could. ‘Look at me.’

Draco bit his lip and met Lucius’s eyes, wincing as he did so.

Yes, there was no denying the terror in Draco’s face. Lucius had no idea what his son was expecting him to do. Surely his month and a half of being confined to the house and forced to do the washing up wasn’t _that_ frightening?

He decided not to broach the topic of punishment yet. Getting answers for Draco’s behaviour was more important at the moment anyway.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked softly.

Draco blinked in shock. ‘Um. Yeah,’ he said hoarsely, and sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve quickly.

Lucius nodded slowly. ‘Your mother has been very worried about you.’

That made Draco bite his lip again, staring at the floor guiltily with welling eyes.

‘Sorry,’ he choked out. ‘I’m sorry.’

Lucius sighed. ‘What _was_ all that about today, Draco? I thought you wanted Harry to fly with you.’

Draco shrugged and sniffled again.

The silence sat between them for a moment, and Lucius realised that was probably all the answer he was going to get. It was… _intensely_ frustrating, but Draco was a very stubborn child. If he didn’t want to talk about why he’d gone off like that, then he simply wouldn’t.

Lucius took fierce hold of his temper; it wouldn’t do any good at this point, and perhaps if he remained calm, Draco would be in good enough spirits after his party tomorrow to talk about it then.

‘All right,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll talk about that another time. In the meantime, I think you should apologise to your mother and Harry in the morning, before the party begins.’

Draco’s head snapped up. ‘The--the party?’ he echoed hopefully. ‘You mean I…I still get to have one?’

Lucius frowned. ‘After your behaviour today, you don’t really deserve it, but it _is_ your birthday, so I’m willing to overlook it this once, so long as you apologise. Especially to Harry,’ he added sternly but not angrily, which took some doing, as the memory stoked his temper again. ‘You knocked him down. You could have hurt him. I realise the rule is “no hitting,” and your mother and I have never specifically mentioned “no shoving,” but I rather thought it was obvious. No hitting, no kicking, no shoving. Am I clear?’

Draco nodded, but his expression was unreadable to Lucius. That he was troubled was plain, but the specific direction of his thoughts was a mystery.

Lucius heaved yet another sigh. He felt very old, today. Much older than thirty-three--thirty-four, he mentally corrected with a grimace. The day after tomorrow, he would be thirty-four. The years flew by too fast. It felt like only yesterday that he’d been turning _twenty_ -four.

‘Now, then. The house elves tell me you haven’t eaten all day, since breakfast. Let’s get you something to eat.’

‘I’m not very hungry,’ Draco mumbled.

Lucius looked at his downcast son and softened. Even if he’d acted like a total brat earlier, it was clear that Narcissa was right--something was going on in that little Malfoy brain, and Draco wouldn’t be right again until he’d sorted it out for himself. He wanted his active, cheerful little boy back, so all he could do for the moment was be patient.

‘Well,’ he said, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder, ‘that’s as may be, but your mother would have my hide if I let you go to bed without eating at least a _little_ something.’

Draco looked up and managed a little smile at Lucius’s conspiratorial expression.

‘Yes, Father,’ he agreed, his tone slightly more normal, and he was obedient for once and ate the plate of fruit, cheese and crackers the house elves brought up.

Lucius escorted Draco to bed afterward, but for some reason, Draco wouldn’t let him inside the sitting room, his cheeks reddening. Well, he _was_ turning eight tomorrow, Lucius reasoned to himself. It was perfectly possible that all of this was part of Draco adjusting to getting older--even, he thought with a shudder, the warning signs of puberty, only a few years away. He was _not_ looking forward to that. He wondered idly what he’d have to do to convince Narcissa to be the one to have The Talk with the boys….

‘Goodnight, Father,’ Draco muttered, and slipped into his room.

‘Goodnight, Draco,’ Lucius replied bemusedly to the closed door, and wandered back toward his own rooms.

He really, really hoped Draco wasn’t starting the moody, secretive side of puberty early. He might have to stage a potions accident and put himself in a coma for the next ten years, if that were so.


	13. Draco's Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has his birthday party with tensions running high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there will be a two-week gap before the next chapter, as I have some work to do on it before I'll feel comfortable posting it. Just FYI.
> 
> Feedback of any kind is always welcome. Please enjoy! :)

Draco waited for Harry in the hallway the next morning--he’d tried the adjacent door, but Harry had apparently locked it from his side, too. _Fine by me,_ Draco thought irritably. He’d promised to apologise, and he would, but he still didn’t like Harry anymore. Harry, who had to ruin everything. _He’d just better not ruin my party today._

Surprisingly, the other boy had managed to dress himself today, in some nice robes, and had actually combed his hair a little, so he didn’t look a _complete_ disaster. Draco sniffed disdainfully anyway, and Harry glared back at him.

‘What d’you want, then?’ he demanded in a surly, common sort of voice.

Draco deliberately enunciated as perfectly as he could, imitating his father. ‘Father has commanded that as punishment, I must apologise to _you_ ,’ he sneered. ‘So there you are. I’ve apologised.’

Harry snorted, folding his arms. ‘Some apology.’

Draco glared and leaned forward, trying to tower over Harry menacingly. It was a lot harder than it used to be, as Harry had grown a few inches, and Draco had yet to hit his next growth spurt.

‘Just stay out of my way today, _Potter_ ,’ he spat. ‘If you ruin my birthday any more than you already have, I’ll make sure you regret it.’

‘Right-ho, Dudley II,’ Harry said flippantly.

Draco reared back as though Harry had tried to slap him, staring at him in horror. Harry really was determined to ruin his life, wasn’t he? Comparing him to a filthy _Muggle_! _Twice_!

Harry just smiled and carried on down the hall, sauntering like he didn’t care that Draco could easily hit him from behind.

But, Draco reminded himself, that’s what Harry’s stupid Muggle cousin would have done. Draco was about a billion times better than that lout, and wouldn’t lower himself to such behaviour.

He’d just slip something in Harry’s drink later, that’s all. It’s what his father would have done.

Breakfast was a tense affair, as Abraxas had decided he needed to spend it with his grandson, since he wouldn’t be attending the party later. Draco was grateful for his grandfather’s presence, for once, because it distracted his parents from noticing that he and Harry were still not on good terms. His mother had accepted Draco’s apology immediately and had fussed over him, which had made him feel a little better, but she’d also scolded him for shoving Harry, just like Lucius had. Draco was still angry enough to feel satisfied about doing it, but he was also beginning to feel guilty about it--particularly after his father had pointed out that he could have hurt Harry.

He really could have hurt him. Harry hadn’t fallen far from the little stone wall that separated the paved terrace from the garden proper. What if he’d hit his head on the wall? What if Draco had waited a few steps, until they were on the terrace, and Harry had hit his head on the marble paving stones? He might have been hurt--might have been killed, if he’d hit his head wrong.

_I don’t care,_ Draco told himself firmly. Harry _hadn’t_ been hurt, and that was that.

His day brightened after breakfast, as he was distracted from thoughts of Harry by the arrivals first of Uncle Severus, who came solemnly bearing a rather large wrapped box, and then of his friends.

Draco knew he was supposed to introduce Harry formally, like a proper pure-blood, but he was too angry with him to do so.

‘Harry, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Harry,’ he said, carelessly waving his hand in Harry’s general direction.

They looked at Harry curiously for a moment, but his red face and averted eyes weren’t very interesting, and so his friends turned back to Draco.

Well, his friends and the stupid girls, of course. The only one of them who was any fun was Daphne Greengrass (she played rough and dirty, which made the children’s games with the Quaffle ten times more enjoyable), but even she wasn’t going to be much fun this time--she’d just recently gained a little sister, and showed no signs of straying far from her mother and the new baby. The upside was that Pansy Parkinson, too, was enamoured with the squalling infant, and therefore wasn’t likely to interrupt their fun with her clumsy attempts at flirting or trying to convince them to let her paint their nails.

That left only Millicent Bulstrode, who was off with a book more often than not, and she immediately sneered at all of them and retreated with her latest book.

‘Looking at the pictures, most likely,’ Draco jeered, puffing out his chest importantly. ‘Everyone knows the Bulstrodes can’t read.’

The other boys snickered--save Saint Harry, of course, who looked upset, and Blaise, who was glum without his Best Friend.

Theodore and his father hadn’t come to the party, despite saying they would a few weeks ago. Lucius had quietly told Draco and Harry after breakfast that Mrs Nott’s health had taken a sharp downturn, and they’d had to take her back to St Mungo’s two nights previous. It wasn’t looking good, and Lucius strictly forbade them to mention the Notts to anyone at the party. Draco had agreed immediately--he didn’t want such a gloomy subject to ruin his party, so why on earth would he mention it?

‘What shall we do first, Malfoy?’ Blaise demanded irritably when the snickers had died down. ‘Quidditch again?’

Crabbe and Michael Corner both looked excited by the prospect, but they were the only ones. Goyle always looked preoccupied--probably with trying to figure out these strange sounds that kept coming out of everyone’s mouths, Draco thought spitefully. Blaise was incapable of appearing happy about anything today, and stupid Harry scowled at the word.

Draco made a face. ‘No, let’s do something else. Let’s go swimming--it’s quite warm today.’

It was, in fact, the warmest day they’d had yet--some of the adults had overdressed and were sweating already, and the sun promised to be hot later, baking their robes until they smelt of heat.

Even Blaise grinned at that. ‘Oh, yes, let’s! Let’s ask our parents to transfigure our clothes!’

This idea met with cheers, as none of them had brought swimwear. They trotted over to the adults, where their suggestion was met with agreement, so long as Mr and Mrs Zabini went along to supervise. Unfortunately, the girls overheard and wanted in, but Draco figured even Pansy couldn’t ruin swimming--if she tried, they’d just dunk her. In fact, if she got too annoying, Daphne was likely to be the first to push her under.

He didn’t need his parents to transfigure his clothes, so after getting his mother’s permission, he ran inside and changed.

He was inside when Harry sneaked away from the group, and he was still inside when Crabbe watched him walk off and went to his parents to beg off from swimming, claiming that he had a cramp.

.

\----------------------

.

Harry strolled through the stony paths of the garden with his hands in his pockets, glumly sighing to himself. He hadn’t known until recently that there was a subset of the garden which Lucius called an ‘informal’ garden. Lucius had brought him here a few nights ago, when Remus hadn’t been able to come to dinner.

Harry had been surprised at how upset he’d been about it--he hadn’t realised how much Remus’s visits had come to mean to him. Remus was a source of connection with his parents, and he looked forward to hearing stories about them twice a week, but he’d also come to enjoy Remus’s company for its own sake. Remus listened to him and offered advice, and he was very calm and casual, if occasionally too mischievous for Harry’s tastes--those were the times he thought Remus and Draco got along better than him and Remus. Harry felt like he could be himself around Remus, which was almost as good as he felt around Lucius. With Lucius, he felt like he could be even _better_ than himself, and that Lucius believed he could be, too.

‘Does that make any sense?’ he’d asked Remus once, scrunching his nose.

Remus had smiled his gentle smile. ‘Perfect sense,’ he agreed. ‘Lucius makes you want to strive to improve yourself. That’s a good thing,’ he added, when Harry just looked confused.

That feeling was why Harry worked so hard, even though reading and studying got very boring sometimes. The only time he really found himself enjoying it was when Draco and Narcissa went shopping, so Lucius let him sit in his study and read while Lucius worked. His cousin would occasionally look up and smile at Harry, and that made Harry feel good about what he was doing, even though sometimes it was so boring he wished Draco would come and rescue him from it. It was always worth it in the end, though--all that struggle to focus and force himself to read, instead of giving up and going to play, meant that he did very well in his lessons and on quizzes, and Lucius and Narcissa were both very happy with him. He’d been given countless treats by Narcissa for all of his good marks, and Lucius had given him something even better.

‘If you keep this up,’ Lucius had said one day, after Harry got a perfect score on a quiz, ‘you’ll do very well at Hogwarts. Very well, indeed.’

It hadn’t been much, on the surface, but it gave Harry confidence in what he was doing, and hope for the future. He would study every book there was, no matter how boring they were, if it meant making Lucius proud of him!

The sound of Draco’s shouting voice as he led the other children back toward the lake, past the garden Harry stood in, broke Harry out of his pleasant thoughts. Lucius was most definitely _not_ going to be proud of him once he found out that Harry and Draco were still on the outs. Harry knew from experience that Lucius would take his son’s side, not Harry’s. Uncle Vernon had _always_ taken Dudley’s side.

Although, Harry realised with a frown, Lucius _hadn’t_ taken Draco’s side, when Draco went flying after Lucius told them not to. He’d come and listened to Harry’s side of the story, and then he’d decided that Harry was telling the truth and hadn’t punished him. It had happened once, so maybe it could happen again. Lucius and Uncle Vernon were definitely not the same, after all, and Harry hadn’t actually done anything to incur Draco’s wrath.

Well, not purposely, anyway. Harry didn’t consider it to be his fault that he’d accidentally been wonderful at flying.

Even if Lucius believed him, though…. Harry looked up at the canopy of branches above him, some of them bearing buds, and made a mental note to ask Lucius to walk in this garden with him again and tell him what kind of trees these were. Even if he believed him, Draco would still be mad at Harry, and now that his initial reaction had worn off, Harry could admit to himself that he was…hurt.

He was very hurt over the way Draco was treating him. He’d apologised, and he hadn’t meant to hurt Draco’s feelings in the first place. Draco could be really, really annoying sometimes, but he could also be loads of fun, and Harry…. Well, he missed him.

_Pathetic,_ Harry thought disgustedly, wiping his face on his sleeve. They’d only been fighting for one day, and he already missed Draco? It was pathetic, and stupid, and…pathetic.

Miserably, Harry sat on a bench under a trellis, looking out at the wildness of this garden. It had immediately become his favourite, and when he announced that it was his favourite, it seemed to please Lucius for some reason, which made it even _more_ his favourite. There were roses and some sort of purple flowers and blue flowers and all sorts of beautiful plants that hadn’t bloomed yet, and they were _everywhere_ , free to be wherever they wanted to be, with only the lazily meandering path through it, roughly forming a circle, kept clear of plant life. It was the exact opposite of Aunt Petunia’s strictly laid and maintained flower beds, and Harry _loved_ it.

Truthfully, Harry missed Draco more keenly after seeing him with his other…with his _real_ friends, rather. If Draco didn’t want anything to do with Harry, he had Vincent Crabbe or Gregory Goyle or Blaise Zabini as backups, all of them eager to follow him anywhere--even Blaise, who’d been rather out of sorts, probably worrying about his best friend Theodore. Harry understood; he’d be worried, too, if he knew his best friend’s mum was in hospital and unlikely to pull through this time. Theodore was lucky Blaise was already his best friend--he was really going to need him, soon.

Not that Harry didn’t have other friends, if Draco hated him now. All of Draco’s friends, even the girls, had largely ignored Harry, but he had Dobby and Neville. It just…wasn’t the same. Neither of his friends were really accepted by Lucius and Narcissa, not the way Draco’s friends were. When Harry had written and suggested to Neville that maybe he could come over sometime, Neville had written back that he’d love to, but his gran would never allow it. Harry hadn’t missed the tension between Mrs Longbottom and Narcissa, either--and though Lucius had agreed to let him write to Neville, there had been a tightness to his expression that Harry could only interpret as disapproval.

Still, he was grateful that Lucius and Narcissa were letting him and Neville be friends, even if they didn’t approve. It was just more evidence of how nice they were--Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hadn’t let Harry be friends with anyone, even if the potential friend had somehow got around Dudley preventing it, and they hadn’t let Dudley be friends with a nice boy who was rumoured to have a drug addict father, no matter how much Dudley screamed.

Harry hadn’t talked to Lucius about his friendship with Dobby yet, but Narcissa had made her feelings clear when she walked back in from trying to talk to Draco again and had found them sitting on the bed together, talking.

Her face had turned whiter than Harry’s sheets, her eyes so round they almost appeared to be all whites, and her mouth had flapped open and shut in a most uncharacteristic way as she made little gasping sounds.

‘Are you all right?’ Harry had asked, concerned.

Narcissa had pointed at Dobby, who cowered behind Harry immediately.

‘Mister Harry Potter is asking Dobby to come,’ he squeaked plaintively, and Harry could feel him shaking.

‘That’s right, I asked him to sit with me,’ Harry said firmly.

‘But--he’s--it’s--’ After some time, Narcissa had finally found her voice again, though it remained breathy and strained. ‘But it’s not done, Harry! It’s just not done!’

Harry blinked, looked at Dobby, and then blinked again. ‘Well, we can move to the sitting room, if you like,’ he’d said.

She had pressed her lips together with blatant frustration, and Harry had finally caught on that it wasn’t because they were sitting on a bed--it was Dobby himself. He pretended not to understand, though, and he and Dobby went to Harry’s sitting room and played Gobstones for a while. Narcissa had continued to look as though she’d swallowed something very strong and very sour, but she didn’t say anything else about it, either.

Harry had already decided not to bring it up with Lucius, just in case he disapproved, too. He’d let Lucius take the lead on that subject, instead, and just hope it never came up. He really didn’t want to lose Dobby as a friend, but he didn’t know if he could bear Lucius’s disapproval.

Worse, he didn’t want to be sent back to the Dursleys for not acting like a wizard, if wizards really didn’t ever make friends with house elves.

‘Hey,’ a gruff voice called, startling Harry so bad he had to jump to his feet if he didn’t want to land on his bum in the dirt. He stood and watched the boy who’d called to him come closer--a great hulking boy, like Dudley, who appeared too large to be only seven to eight years old. His hair was shaved close to his head, his beady eyes peered out at Harry through thick folds, reminding him of a great fat hog, and his wide, floppy mouth was drawn even wider in a grin that he supposed was meant to be friendly but just looked hungry.

Crabbe, he remembered belatedly--this was the boy everyone had called Crabbe. Draco had not bothered introducing Harry to anyone, or anyone to Harry, so he’d picked up what he could from the other children talking.

‘All right?’ Crabbe added when he was within normal speaking distance.

Harry nodded quickly, trying not to appear as rattled as he felt. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

Crabbe nodded once. ‘Didn’t feel like swimming?’

Harry shook his head and wiped his palms on his robes. Crabbe was being friendly enough, but for some reason, Harry still felt anxious in his presence. He told himself it was because he was still jumpy from the initial startle--he didn’t want to miss out on making a new friend just because of his stupid nerves.

‘Me neither,’ Crabbe grunted. ‘Wanna go for a walk?’

Harry grinned, pleased by the unexpected invitation. ‘Sure!’

Crabbe nodded again and his big sloppy grin returned. ‘Okay. Let’s go that way.’

They wandered through the gardens. Crabbe wasn’t much of a talker, but that was okay with Harry. He was so intent on following Crabbe that he didn’t notice until they’d drawn up alongside it and the dogs started baying excitedly that he’d led them to the kennels.

‘Oh,’ Harry gulped, and stopped walking.

Crabbe turned and frowned at him when he realised he wasn’t walking anymore. Harry tried and failed to muster a smile.

‘You _afraid_?’ he grunted, his piggy eyes widening.

‘Um.’ Harry swallowed as best he could, forcing himself to straighten even though his spine felt rusty. ‘Me? No! No. Course not.’

Crabbe eyed him narrowly, clearly disbelieving. ‘Prove it.’

He scowled at Crabbe. ‘How? We’re not allowed to go in there.’

He wasn’t sure if that was true--he’d never been this close to the kennels on his walks with Lucius, so the subject had never come up.

Crabbe’s face creased with smug amusement. ‘Coward. I’ll tell ’em all what a coward you were--what a good joke that will be!’

Harry’s fists clenched and he seethed--he was no coward! His parents were _Gryffindors_!

‘I’m not a coward!’ he snapped.

‘Then prove it,’ Crabbe insisted, unimpressed with Harry’s anger. Harry couldn’t honestly blame him--he was less than half Crabbe’s size. ‘Let’s go in and pet one of them.’

Harry swallowed hard and looked at the excited hounds, running back and forth in their cages like maniacs, his anger and pride warring with his fear. He really, really didn’t want to go anywhere near the beasts--they were taller than him when they stood on their hind legs! On the other hand, he didn’t want Crabbe going back to the other kids and telling them all he was a coward. He’d never live it down, and then none of them would ever want to be friends with him.

He suddenly didn’t like Crabbe very much.

‘Fine, let’s go,’ he said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

From Crabbe’s smug look, he guessed he hadn’t managed it. The bigger boy cracked open the door that led to the indoor segment of the kennels, and all the dogs ran inside, baying excitedly.

‘After you,’ Crabbe said almost gleefully.

Harry squared his shoulders and marched in, angrily determined not to let his anxiety get the better of him. He could feel Crabbe following him as he walked down the short hall, eyeing the doors on either side. It was impossible to see into each dog’s pen, as the doors only had a small slot at the top, too tall for Harry to see through. There were no nameplates or other identifying features, either. He would just have to hope that he picked a dog who was friendly.

‘Well?’ Crabbe prompted impatiently.

Taking a deep breath, he went to a door on his left and cautiously opened it. He’d just stuck his head in when a hard shove at his back sent him tumbling inside, and the door slammed behind him. Harry leapt to his feet and bashed fruitlessly at the door--there was no handle on this side, and he was too small to break it down. He could hear Crabbe laughing on the other side.

‘Let me out!’ Harry screamed, his voice shrill with terror. ‘Let me out, you--you _Muggle_!’

Crabbe quit laughing. ‘Scrawny Squib!’ he shouted back, his outrage deepening his voice into a near growl. ‘I hope it eats you!’

Then he ran off.

‘HELP!’ Harry yelled as loudly as he could. ‘ _HEEEEEEEEELP_!’

He paused to take a breath, and that was when he heard a low, rumbling noise behind him. Gulping, Harry gave up on the door and turned to face the furry, hulking beast coming toward him.

.

\----------------------

.

Lucius was grateful for Severus’s presence, for once, as it gave him an extra set of eyes at the party. No Death Eaters or uncommitted supporters escaped their eagle eyes. Peyton Parkinson had paled at the sight of Lucius and Severus together and promptly joined the women in a game of cards, rather than sit anywhere near them. None of the others showed any inclination toward Harry--there were no obvious stares or enquiries, merely dismissive glances. Only Abraxas stared, watching the party with a tight expression from one of his windows, far across the lawn. Lucius ignored him as best he could.

‘That’s the Boy Who Lived, then?’ Gennadius Goyle asked mildly when the boys all came running over to where the mothers and Peyton were sitting on the terrace, surrounded by more balloons and streamers than Lucius thought was strictly necessary.

Severus shot him a sharp look, but Lucius was less concerned. Gennadius wasn’t the brightest wizard by any means, and he had willingly followed the Dark Lord, as far as Lucius knew, but he was also well known for his soft spot where children were concerned. The Dark Lord had openly punished him more than once for failing to kill or torture Muggle children during revels, but it hadn’t altered Goyle’s behaviour at all. He simply did not have it in him to harm a child.

Lucius kept an eye on him anyway--people could change, after all.

‘Yes,’ he replied simply, without rancour.

Goyle just nodded and wandered off with his plate of cakes and sweetmeats, over to where his son, Gregory, was harassing his mother for something.

Lucius was curious about that as well, and after all of the children had mysteriously disappeared, and Mr and Mrs Zabini were headed down the path that led to the lake, he casually made his way to Narcissa’s side.

He didn’t have to say a word.

‘They’re swimming,’ she said quietly. ‘You can trust Nerina.’

Lucius snorted. He didn’t so much _trust_ the Zabinis--it was more that he knew they were smart enough not to make a move against Harry in such a public setting. Still, it prickled at him more and more, and finally, he couldn’t take not seeing Harry with his own eyes.

‘I’ll be back,’ he murmured to Severus, and took off down the path as quickly as he could while still maintaining his dignity.

‘Lucius,’ Matteo Zabini greeted him solemnly.

The couple was reclining in lawn chairs in the shade of the hedge, holding glasses of lemon squash.

He nodded toward the lake. ‘Your Draco is a fine swimmer.’

Lucius waved a dismissive hand, anxiously scanning the children in the lake. ‘Yes, yes,’ he said distractedly.

Alarmingly, he did not see Harry’s messy black head among them, and his breath caught.

‘They are all fine,’ Nerina said cautiously. ‘We haven’t taken our eyes off of them.’

He turned so sharply the stones crunched. ‘Where is Harry?’

Matteo jerked with surprise, his eyes widening.

‘Potter?’ Nerina asked, equally surprised.

Lucius couldn’t restrain an eye-roll, his lip curling. ‘ _Yes_!’ he snapped so loudly his voice echoed off the water and the hedges, and the children in the lake went silent, turning to look at the adults. ‘ _Harry Potter_ , where is he?’

The Zabinis exchanged a glance.

‘He didn’t come out to swim,’ Matteo said gravely, and then when Lucius opened his mouth, added, ‘I swear it on my wand, Lucius. He didn’t come out with the others.’

‘We thought he was with you,’ Nerina agreed quietly.

Slowly, Lucius backed down, nodding, his heart pounding with his sudden terror. He believed them--no wizard swore on their wand lightly--but the question remained: Where _was_ Harry?

Then he remembered--a pair of cold eyes glaring out from the gloom, tracking one particular boy from the window….

‘Abraxas,’ Lucius breathed, and turned and ran back toward the house, dignity be damned.

The guests looked up in alarm when he came sprinting out of the garden, crossing the lawn in a flash, but he ignored them, skidding to Severus’s side.

‘Harry’s not with the others,’ he gasped--he wasn’t used to running anymore. ‘The Zabinis haven’t seen him.’

Severus’s eyes immediately sharpened. ‘I thought I saw him heading toward that garden--let’s check there first.’

Lucius nodded quickly, not questioning Severus’s lead in the heat of the moment. He mentally kicked himself when he realised he was willingly taking orders from a half-blood, following him back across the lawn. It would make sense, though--if Harry wasn’t interested in going for a swim (if, Lucius realised with near-paralytic horror, he didn’t know _how_ to swim-- _I’m going to teach him first thing tomorrow morning oh Merlin what if he’d gone for a swim with the others and drowned_ \--), then retreating to the cool shade of Lucius’s mother’s garden would be reasonable, particularly since Harry had claimed it as his favourite of the gardens. Lucius didn’t feel it would be dignified to protest at the moment, just to lead them in the exact same direction.

They arrived at the entrance to the garden and Lucius drew his wand.

‘ _Hominem revelio_ ,’ he cast--or tried to.

With a shudder and a puff of smoke, his wand let him know that it was in no mood to cooperate today.

Lucius sneered and helplessly shook it, humiliated at the failure in front of an inferior.

‘Blasted-- _thing_!’

Severus had drawn his wand while Lucius battled with his own. ‘You really should replace it.’

Lucius shot him an ugly look--did the stupid, slimy half-blood _really_ think that hadn’t occurred to him? It was simply a matter of finding the time--and a wandmaker as good as Ollivander who _didn’t_ have a grudge against Lucius’s father….

Severus cast the spell, but there were no results. There was no one in the garden.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe--he’d lost Harry….

‘Calm yourself,’ Severus snarled. ‘Do you hear that?’

Lucius straightened, cocking his head as he realised--

‘The dogs,’ he said. ‘And--’

They exchanged an alarmed glance. It sounded like someone was screaming.

As one, the two wizards whirled and dashed for the kennels.

The voice grew clearer as they drew closer, differentiating from the hounds’ baying, and Lucius found new reserves of speed when he realised the voice was Harry’s. He made a mental note to himself that he needed to get in better shape and soon, and then refocused on the situation. His wand cooperated this time when he commanded the door of the dogshed to open, and the two wizards slid into the building, blasting the door nearly off its hinges, wands ready to down whichever beast that was--

\-- _licking_ Harry?

Lucius stared, uncomprehending, for a moment, as his panic slowly drained. Harry wasn’t being attacked, he wasn’t bleeding or dying--he was lying on the floor, shrieking with _laughter_ as one of the hounds delightedly licked his face and neck, coating him in drool. The hound in question, he belatedly realised, was Butch, who was particularly fond of children.

He slumped against the wall with the force of his relief, his hands shaking and his heart pounding with leftover adrenaline. There was no danger. Harry was fine. He couldn’t even bring himself to care that Severus was studying him with that speculative expression again--all that mattered was that it had been a false alarm. Narcissa was fine, Draco was fine, Harry was fine--his family was alive and well and within the wards.

‘Harry,’ he panted, but that was all he could get out for the moment.

Harry, still giggling, pushed Butch off enough to stand. The hairy liver-and-white beast whined, wagging his tail furiously as he stared up at Harry with worshipful brown eyes.

‘Sorry, Cousin Lucius, Professor Snape,’ Harry said as respectfully as he could when he was grinning ear to ear and still breaking out into giggles from time to time. ‘I didn’t mean to be so loud. His whiskers tickle.’

Lucius straightened with an effort. ‘How did you…? Why…?’

He still couldn’t quite breathe. Severus didn’t seem to be having any trouble, and he smirked smugly when Lucius looked his way. He couldn’t work up a glare at the moment and decided to ignore the half-blood’s insolence for now.

‘Well, I didn’t want to,’ said Harry, and sheepishly explained the whole story.

Lucius was disturbed to hear that Draco hadn’t bothered to introduce his cousin--how was Harry supposed to practise the manners Narcissa had taught him? And, more importantly, it showed a _huge_ breach of manners on Draco’s part, and Draco was supposed to know better and set an example for Harry. Young Vincent Crabbe’s behaviour made Lucius’s blood boil, but he supposed it was to be expected. The Crabbes were known for their stupidity and bad-tempered nature, so it was no surprise that Vincent was following in his father’s footsteps by doing something so shortsighted and cruel. Still, it illustrated that Lucius’s worries were, once again, well-founded, and he had no intention of letting Harry out of his sight again for the rest of the day.

‘I know you would probably rather go off and play,’ Lucius said sternly, ‘but after what just happened, I think you can understand why I’m asking you to stay close to me.’

Harry ducked his head and sheepishly agreed--he was still plainly embarrassed about being so easily tricked, and Lucius had no plans to comfort him on that count. It would do Harry good in the future, when potential threats weren’t quite so benign and juvenile, to remember today’s lesson.

Severus cleaned Harry up with a few flicks of his wand, as Lucius did not yet trust his own aim, given that the adrenaline was still wearing off, and they rejoined the party as coolly as they could. Butch mournfully bayed, which seemed to make Harry feel guilty--Lucius had some hope that perhaps the episode had taught _two_ lessons, and Harry would no longer be quite so frightened of the kennels.

After a few curious glances, the guests returned to their conversations and refreshments--only Narcissa remained concerned, staring at Lucius pointedly. He gradually herded Harry to her side, casually winding their way across the terrace. Severus trailed them with much less subtlety, glowering at everyone so obviously that Lucius nearly rolled his eyes.

‘He got locked in the kennels by one of the other children,’ he murmured when they finally arrived at her side.

Narcissa gasped and immediately fussed over Harry, smoothing his hopelessly mussed hair and straightening his robes.

Harry smiled, reddening. ‘I’m all right, Narcissa. He wasn’t a scary dog after all.’

Narcissa shot Lucius a questioning glance.

‘It was Butch,’ he said simply.

The other dogs wouldn’t have hurt Harry, but they wouldn’t have been so friendly about finding a stranger in their pens, either, and likely would have frightened him with their stares and standoffishness.

She couldn’t help an amused smile. ‘Ah. You’re lucky you didn’t drown.’

Harry just grinned and ducked his head again.

Young Crabbe, sitting with his parents on the other side of the terrace, paled and sank low in his chair when Lucius glared in his direction. He didn’t leave his seat for the remainder of the festivities, and very carefully did not look at any of the Malfoys or Harry.

Harry did indeed stick close to either Lucius or Narcissa for the rest of the party, sitting with Narcissa and nibbling on cakes when he got tired. Lucius was more at ease in his patrols--ostensibly part of his duties as host, to be sure his guests were comfortable and wanted for nothing, but really for his peace of mind that none of his guests were off tampering with his wards or doing other nefarious things--when Harry was by his side, but at least he was plainly visible now. He also began to itch with concern for Draco, who was also a possible target if any of them decided he would make good leverage against Lucius, so an hour or so before dinner, he put Severus in charge of Harry and broke up the swimming party. Most of the children were pruny and getting tired anyway, so it was easy to roust them from the lake. The Zabinis seemed to be relieved to return to adult company.

They ate dinner in the grand dining hall, even the children, although a smaller table was set up for them at the other end of the hall so that they wouldn’t disturb the adults’ conversations. Lucius was pleased to see that his and Narcissa’s lessons in table manners had taken very well with Harry. He didn’t embarrass them with any messes or bad posture or cutlery mistakes. In fact, he behaved better than most of the children--he and Draco were striking for their cool restraint amongst the rowdy boys and girls around them eating like they belonged in a barnyard.

Matteo Zabini even followed Lucius’s gaze once and reddened, barking, ‘Blaise! _Chew_ before you swallow!’

That momentarily calmed the children’s table, as they all seemed to realise they were being monitored. Harry looked at Narcissa, his main teacher in matters of etiquette, with distinct nervousness. She smiled reassuringly and he sat up straighter, grinning with pride and relief. He seemed to do even better after that, and when Draco looked to Lucius, he made sure to give his son a small smile and a nod. Draco was similarly inspired, so when chaos once again broke out at the children’s table, at least _Lucius’s_ boys were not a part of it. He couldn’t have been prouder, and judging by Narcissa’s serene expression, neither could she.

After dinner, the adults leisurely strolled through the formal garden by the reflecting pool, watching the swans finish their nightly patrol. The children (other than Harry and Millicent Bulstrode) stayed out on the lawn and played Pox, shrieking with delight and false terror. Lucius worried that Harry wished to join them, but to his surprise, he willingly stayed close to Lucius’s side, and fell into quiet conversation with Millicent when she started to walk around the Malfoys on her way to her parents. She seemed equally surprised by the attention, but eagerly accepted Harry’s company--it seemed he had asked what she was reading. From what little Lucius could recall of her, the Bulstrodes’ only daughter wasn’t particularly intelligent, but neither was she as stupid as the Crabbe boy--she enjoyed reading mystery novels, Lucius recalled Mrs Bulstrode remarking, and building miniature boats. She wasn’t exactly a great connection, but she wasn’t a vicious child, and Lucius approved of Harry making another pure-blood friend his age. The more of those he had, the more protected he would be.

The walk was curtailed by the growing dusk--the days were lengthening, but it was still early June--and the adults returned to the terrace, talking in murmurs and sipping wine under the glow of the lamps, lit by the house elves while they were away. The children raced in and out of circles of light, their giggles growing more breathless and their play growing slower and less enthusiastic.

The sun set and full dark came, bringing with it the singing of the night bugs, and the children returned in straggling clumps, weary and panting and sweating, and that seemed to signal the end of the party, each family trickling out as they collected their exhausted-but-happy child. Draco remembered his manners well enough to say goodbye to each family as they left, thanking them for their gifts--Lucius had missed him opening them at some point during the day, but he imagined his son had been well pleased anyway. At any rate, he hadn’t heard any whining or complaints.

At last--at long, long last--the only one left was Severus, and after accepting Draco’s thanks and farewell hug, he drew Lucius aside.

‘We need to talk,’ he said lowly. ‘Soon.’

Lucius frowned, but reluctantly nodded in agreement. He owed Severus, after all--for his help today and for accompanying him to Godric’s Hollow. Besides, he could even grudgingly admit to himself that Severus was better at spotting certain things than he was, and after monitoring all day, it was likely Severus had a legitimate concern that Lucius would need to attend to.

‘Tomorrow.’

Severus accepted that with a curt nod and took his leave.

Narcissa was helping Draco haul his gifts upstairs, so Lucius took it upon himself to escort Harry back to his room--mostly so he could ask the question that had been bothering him for the latter half of the day.

‘Harry,’ he began slowly, once they were out of earshot. ‘You chose not to accompany the other children to the lake, so I would like to know….’

Harry looked up at him with innocent confusion.

Lucius took a breath. ‘Harry, do you know how to swim?’

Harry blinked, and blinked again, and finally broke into a smile. ‘Of course, Cousin Lucius! My Muggle school had a mandatory swimming class.’

Visions of Harry drowning evaporated from Lucius’s mind and he nearly tripped on the stairs with relief, nearly boneless with it for the second time that day. He was very, very tired. He needed a holiday from juggling little boys.

‘Oh, good,’ he sighed.

Harry grabbed onto his arm and steadied him the rest of the way up the stairs, even though he didn’t really need it, his face twisted with worry.

‘We’re all going to sleep well tonight, Harry,’ Lucius said, mostly to reassure him that his unusual clumsiness was just exhaustion.

Harry nodded and yawned widely, the worry smoothing from his face.

‘And most of tomorrow,’ he said brightly after the yawn had passed.

Lucius couldn’t help a chuckle.

.

\---------------------

.

Draco had opened all of his many, many presents in spurts throughout the day--all except one--and loved all of them. Most of them went into the playroom, to be organised by the house elves, but Draco had taken this one into his room with him after bidding his mother goodnight. He hadn’t let her in--his room was still barren of his Quidditch decorations and toys, all of the destruction chucked into the bin by the door by the house elves, and he was embarrassed by the thought of either of his parents seeing the evidence of his biggest tantrum yet. Draco wasn’t sure why the house elves hadn’t taken it all away completely like they usually did when he destroyed things, but he was glad. He was beginning to regret his rampage through his belongings. Just because Harry was a better flyer didn’t mean Draco couldn’t still like watching Quidditch, did it? But the thought of looking at any of it sent a pang through his insides, so he had decided _not_ to decide just yet.

The present he had not yet opened was the one from Harry. It was badly wrapped in Christmas-themed gift wrap, with a handwritten card in Harry’s tight, jagged script. He’d been surprised to receive it at all, and his stomach squirmed with conflicting emotions. His slowly budding guilt over his behaviour, his continuing anger and resentment over Harry, and his embarrassment over his unrestrained rage made him feel like he’d swallowed a nest of bees, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Part of him wanted to chuck the gift; the majority wanted to tear into it to see if it was that one present, the one he’d _really_ wanted but hadn’t got, the one Harry had asked about….

And still another part, a small, shy part, whispered to Draco that he didn’t really deserve it, and that he ought to return it to Harry with an apology--a real one, this time.

Draco was unfamiliar with the feeling of not deserving something. Previous to Harry’s arrival, he had believed himself entitled to nearly anything he asked for, with the only real limits set by his mother’s concern for his safety. Even after Harry came, Draco hadn’t really felt anything like this. If he did something he shouldn’t, his father punished him, his mother offered counsel and comfort, and the whole matter was settled quickly.

This time was different, partly because Draco had never tried to hurt anyone before. He’d accidentally hurt people before--he and his friends played rough, sometimes, and they all had accidentally scraped and bumped each other, but that was mutual and all in the course of seeking the fun, so all was forgiven and forgotten easily and quickly. He’d accidentally hurt his father once, too, when he got the slingshot he’d begged and begged for, and then had put a jack in it and flung it without aiming. It had embedded itself in Lucius’s neck (thankfully in the muscle, not anywhere more life-threatening), and Draco had cried for hours, long after Narcissa had healed the tiny injury and Lucius had stopped scolding him. He’d felt awful about it, which had mitigated some of Lucius’s rage down to grumbles and glares, and brought Narcissa to his defence.

He’d never purposely set out to hurt anyone before, but when he had shoved Harry, he _meant_ it. Draco was a little scared of how much he had meant it. For a moment, anyway, blinded by his black, ugly rage, Draco had not only _not cared_ if he hurt Harry, he had _wanted_ to hurt him. It was a part of himself he had never met with before, and he didn’t like it, not at all. He always thought of himself as one of the heroes, but heroes didn’t want to hurt other people, did they? His father had told him that pure-bloods were good people, that they were better than everyone else in the world, because they were noble and just. With the perspective afforded by time to cool off, Draco could see that how he had acted had not been very noble or just--Harry hadn’t intended to be better than Draco, and he’d tried to apologise for it--and Draco was afraid that maybe he wasn’t good, deep down. That maybe…maybe he really _wasn’t_ good enough for his parents, not just that he _seemed_ like it in comparison to Harry. Maybe Harry didn’t have anything to do with it, it was just that Draco was bad, and his parents had realised it or figured it out, somehow.

Draco wouldn’t have even thought of any of this if his parents had reacted the way they normally did. If Narcissa had soothed him and explained away some of what he was feeling, he would have forgotten all about it by dinner. If Lucius had shouted and laid down a punishment of some kind, Draco might not have felt guilty at all, having, in his young mind, paid for his crime, and therefore free to put it from his mind.

As it was, Narcissa had not directly addressed the issue, other than her initial fussing and scolding after Draco apologised this morning, only shooting Draco occasional worried glances. Knowing he was worrying his mother had made Draco feel even guiltier.

And Lucius…Lucius hadn’t yelled. Not once. There was no scolding, no punishment. He’d spoken quietly, gently, even, when Draco came to him to face his punishment. Somehow that made it all the worse for Draco. Never in his life had Draco misbehaved and been met with sympathy and understanding from his father--but this time, he had. He had gone to Lucius expecting the worst and had received only gentle prodding and an equally gentle insistence that he must eat something before bed. He was keenly, uncomfortably aware of the unpaid-for crime.

If Lucius had shouted the house down, had caned Draco as he’d threatened a few times before, had sentenced him to a year of cleaning the kennels and doing the washing up, then Draco might have felt the issue was taken care of and he didn’t need to feel guilty about it anymore. His father’s actual reaction--soft and almost sad--had awoken the guilt in the first place, as well as shame over his behaviour.

His father shouted, sometimes, but more often he was cold and menacing, and no matter how angry he got, he was always restrained. He had never hurt Draco or his mother, not even when Draco had done something to truly warrant a good caning. Both of his parents were controlled--they had emotions, but they didn’t give them free rein, as Draco had done. Draco wanted nothing more than to grow up to be a man like his father--to be powerful and elegant and respected. He was ashamed and embarrassed by his lack of control for the first time in his life, self-conscious and aware of his childish emotional displays--this time, a display that had nearly led him to hurt someone.

It was this that made Draco ultimately decide to open the package. Well, the new awareness _and_ his burning curiosity over whether it was the present he thought it was.

He thoughtfully tugged at it, trying to open it with the same meticulousness that his mother showed at Christmas, but it was a good deal more difficult than she made it look, and in the end he just ripped off the paper anyway. The box wasn’t taped shut, so it was easy to throw open the flaps and dive into the tissue paper to find the real present.

And it _was_ the present he’d hoped and longed for--the dragon that breathed fire!

In that moment, all was forgiven on Draco’s side. Harry really _was_ perfect, and as an Official Best Friend, he was the real deal! He was sorry he’d ever been angry, and more sorry than ever that he’d shoved Harry. Snatching up his prize, Draco raced out into the hall and into Harry’s sitting room, as the adjoining door was still locked from Harry’s side. The sitting room was empty, so he continued without slowing his speed into Harry’s bedroom, where he rocketed off the floor and landed perfectly on Harry, who had been sleeping contentedly.

‘Ouch,’ said Harry groggily.

Draco bounced up and down on him impatiently. ‘Wake up, wake up, wake up!’

‘’m awake,’ Harry growled, shoving Draco off and sitting up, rubbing his bleary eyes. ‘What do you want? It’s after our bedtime. You’ll get in trou--’

Draco cut Harry off with a well-timed hug that made him grunt. He only backed off when Harry protested the lack of air again, waving his new toy excitedly.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ he cried loudly, uncaring if he woke his mother and brought his parents’ wrath down on them. ‘You got me the dragon, you’re the _best_! I’m sorry I shoved you and told you to go away--I don’t care if you can fly better than I can, anymore, you’re the best friend in the whole world!’

He couldn’t help pouncing on Harry in a fresh hug, overly excited by the present he’d wanted with all his heart and thought he’d never have. When he let go, Harry looked rather dazed, his smile tugging rather reluctantly at his mouth, like he was doing it because he couldn’t help it but he didn’t really want to.

‘I really didn’t mean to, you know,’ he said, a little sourly.

‘I know. I just--I love it, so I got angry and I couldn’t help it,’ Draco said uncomfortably. ‘Can you forgive me?’

The guilt had made a reappearance, now that the initial excitement had faded a touch, mostly due to Harry’s reluctance to reciprocate.

Now, though, Harry didn’t look so reluctant when he smiled, his eyes brightening. ‘Well--yeah, of course. What are friends for?’

Draco grinned, feeling for the first time the liberation of being forgiven. The guilt eased and he could breathe again. Draco didn’t rationally process these feelings--he only knew that he suddenly felt much better, and he happily bounced, hugging his new toy.

‘You _will_ keep your promise, won’t you?’ Harry asked, his brow wrinkled with worry. ‘You’ll only use it in the bathroom?’

Draco nodded earnestly. ‘Oh, yes, I promised! I’ll remember!’

He was filled to the brim with the innocent desire to be good from now on, and he tried to ignore Harry’s doubtful expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This does not end Draco's issues, but it does get the boys' relationship back on an even keel for now.
> 
> I don't recommend this method to cure someone of a fear of dogs--Harry isn't really cured, either, he just knows Butch specifically is a safe dog to be around.


	14. Impasse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco continue to mend fences; Lucius and Severus have a conversation that quickly turns sour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was just a bit more than two weeks.... Sorry about that. Thanksgiving derailed my plans a bit. Anyway, the intervals between chapters will probably be a bit longer for a while, owing to the holiday season, and also to the fact that, while I have this arc all outlined, not all of it is written out yet. I like to be several chapters ahead, and currently I am only one chapter ahead. Still, it's all planned, so that makes it just a touch easier, it's just the busy time of year disrupting my schedule!
> 
> Enough pity partying, I promise. On to the story!
> 
> Feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated, and I hope you continue to enjoy! :)

Draco was in excellent spirits the next morning at breakfast, excitedly talking at Harry like he always did. Harry was pleased to see it, and also pleased to see that it seemed to make Narcissa and Lucius relax. He knew they’d been very worried about Draco; it made him feel even better about forgiving him so quickly and easily. Even though Harry’s anger at Draco had been heavy in his chest and burning hot, it had slipped away as though it had never been as soon as Draco apologised. He’d tried to hang onto it for a few minutes afterward, but only the hurt he’d been feeling would come.

After breakfast, Draco immediately dragged him upstairs, and Harry resigned himself to giving Lucius his birthday present later. He’d mentioned having a meeting today anyway, so maybe it would be better later.

In Draco’s sitting room, all other thoughts melted away as Harry, open-mouthed, took in the mess. Draco stood shuffling his feet and blushing, but he didn’t say anything in his own defence.

All of Draco’s beloved Quidditch posters had been ripped down and stuffed in the bin, the unhappy players soaring along the torn edges, trying futilely to get to the other side of the halved posters to keep playing. His toys and models were strewn everywhere or thrown in the bin with the posters, many of them bent or in pieces. His Quidditch books had been chucked in the hearth, liberally scattered with soot and ashes from the impact.

‘Draco….’

Harry couldn’t think of anything to say and shook his head, pressing his lips together until he could feel his pulse in them. He wanted to tell Draco that Lucius would be really angry when he saw the evidence of _this_ temper tantrum--he wanted to tell Draco to grow up. But he wasn’t perfect, either, and it was clear from his red face and ashamed expression that Draco already knew he’d behaved badly.

He toed one of the broken toys, not meeting Harry’s eyes. ‘Yeah, I know,’ he mumbled. ‘It’s a big mess. Will you….’

He stopped, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders.

Slowly, Harry smiled. ‘I’ll help you clean it up before your parents see.’

Draco’s head shot up, a surprised grin breaking out on his face.

‘Although,’ he added, tilting his head, ‘I think we’re going to need some help.’

Draco blinked. ‘My grandfather would be just as angry if he--’

‘Oh, no, no,’ Harry said quickly. He was gradually growing more terrified of Abraxas, not less, as the old wizard continued staring at him out of windows and generally being creepy. ‘I meant someone else. Dobby!’

With a crack, the house elf appeared before them. Draco frowned, but Harry grinned.

‘Harry Potter is needing something?’ Dobby asked, ignoring Draco.

‘Hi, Dobby! If you’ve got time, Draco and I were wondering if you could help us? We’re trying to straighten his room, but…well, Draco ripped and broke some of it, and we don’t have magic, so we can’t fix those parts. Would you please fix those parts while we clean up and straighten?’

Dobby’s ears lifted. ‘Dobby would be very happy to help Harry Potter and Young Master!’

Harry’s grin broadened. ‘Great! Thanks, Dobby!’

He turned to find Draco staring at him, but he didn’t give him a chance to comment.

‘Why don’t you start with those toys, and I’ll try to salvage your books out of the fireplace?’

Draco obeyed with a grimace, and Dobby started fixing the posters with a snap of his fingers as soon as both boys were hard at work. It was nearly lunchtime when they were finished, and Dobby had to leave to help prepare the meal.

‘How did you get him to do that?’ Draco demanded as soon as he was gone, diligently arranging his repaired toys on their proper shelves. ‘Dobby’s one of the most obstinate house elves we have. Only Father can usually get him to do anything outside of his normal duties.’

Harry shot him a glance, deliberately keeping his expression bland. ‘It’s very simple,’ he said neutrally. ‘I said please. And then I said thank you.’

Draco stared at him as though this was the strangest idea anyone had ever had, and also he’d just sprouted an extra set of limbs. Harry just shook his head and continued putting Draco’s less-favourite toys back in their chest.

.

\----------------------

.

With his father thankfully absent from breakfast once again, the boys were free to act more normally. Lucius was relieved to see that they seemed to have repaired the rift in their relationship, and so he decided not to speak to Draco privately after all. He was still itching with the desire to punish and to demand answers, but he also didn’t want to reopen the wound after the boys had seemingly resolved their issues on their own. It was very mature of them, rather unexpectedly so, and he reluctantly let it be.

Besides, he was all too aware of the unpleasant meeting to come. Lucius had seen more of Severus since Harry’s arrival than he ever wished to in a lifetime.

The younger wizard arrived promptly at eleven, his usual sour expression firmly affixed.

‘Another batch of twits and nitwits off into the world,’ he said acidly.

Lucius mentally interpreted this to mean that he’d seen the students away from Hogwarts for the summer and was very happy to see the last of the seventh-years. If he wasn’t mistaken, Arthur Weasley’s eldest boy (Willard? William? Or perhaps he’d got them mixed up and Charles was the eldest?) was in that form, so he could well understand Severus’s relief at seeing the back of them.

‘Please, have a seat,’ he said pointedly, rather than acknowledge Severus’s grumbling in place of a hello. ‘May I offer you anything?’

Severus dropped into Lucius’s favourite chair with a snort, folding his arms. ‘I said we needed to talk, not have a tea party. If you’d like to play, you ought to go upstairs to your son’s nursery and ask if he’ll pretend with you.’

Lucius scowled, sitting much more gracefully in the less comfortable chair that Harry usually occupied. ‘You know, Severus, for once--just _once_ in our lives--I should like to speak to you when you’re in an equitable mood. Just to see what it’s like.’

Severus’s grin was as unpleasant as always. ‘I _am_ in an “equitable” mood, Lucius. You have yet to meet me when I’m annoyed.’

He shuddered exaggeratedly. ‘Perish the thought.’

Severus only looked pleased with himself.

‘Since you’re in no mood for pleasantries or even simply courtesy,’ Lucius went on, his own tone turning more sour than not, ‘then perhaps you’d like to enlighten me as to why, exactly, you are here.’

The half-blood wasn’t quite done playing yet, though, and slitted eyes full of malicious glee his way. ‘Malfoy, normal people would just say, “What d’you want?” or “Get on with it, then.”’

Lucius’s nostrils flared and his jaw tightened as he tried very hard not to give in to Severus’s baiting. Despite his best efforts, his lips puckered, and Severus looked positively delighted at this evidence of Lucius’s rising temper.

‘Very well, I’ll _enlighten_ you,’ he said, and finally turned serious, the mischievousness fading almost to nothing. ‘I want to discuss Harry’s education.’

Lucius blinked. ‘Harry’s education.’ Then his hands clenched around the armrests and his teeth squeaked in protest as he ground his jaw. ‘Dumbledore--’

‘--Hasn’t said a word on the subject,’ Severus interrupted curtly. ‘I am raising these concerns on…someone else’s behalf,’ he added in a softer tone.

The rage faded, leaving only complete bewilderment. Narcissa was the boys’ main tutor, with Lucius mostly supplementing, so it wasn’t her concern. If she thought his somewhat unstructured lectures on the history and theory of their magic, world and culture were deficient, she wouldn’t have hesitated to tell him so.

‘Lupin?’ he guessed, grasping at straws.

There simply weren’t many possibilities, since Severus had already denied Dumbledore’s involvement.

Severus rolled his eyes. ‘If Lupin had a problem with your teachings, I’m sure he would have spoken to you himself, rather than entrusting such a task to me.’

That was probably true. The wolf did his best to be friendly to Severus, offering the olive branch several times and showing no signs of giving up, but even he couldn’t possibly be thick enough to believe Severus would speak to Lucius on his behalf. Besides, when it came to Harry, Lupin seemed to find a backbone, if his double-crossing Dumbledore for Harry’s sake was any indication, and Lucius believed it was. If Lupin had felt that Lucius and Narcissa weren’t teaching Harry properly, he certainly would have said something--privately, in his usual weak-willed manner, of course. He’d seemed perfectly content with their handling of his best friend’s son, though, happy enough to spend Tuesday and Thursday evenings with Harry (barring the nights too near the full moon), filling his ears with stories of his father. Lucius often felt a twinge when he overheard some of these stories, and he couldn’t quite place its source. He’d written it off as discomfort over the thought of Harry getting any terrible ideas from the often wild tales of his father’s misspent youth, particularly since the few-and-far-between stories of Harry’s mother produced no twinge, and she had been much more circumspect in her behaviour.

‘If not Lupin, then--’

Severus cut him off for the second time in less than ten minutes. ‘Let’s just say it’s me and leave it at that.’

Lucius frowned at him, thoroughly annoyed. ‘If you have concerns, you needn’t be so roundabout and pretend they’re someone else’s. There’s no shame in caring for H--’

‘I don’t,’ Severus snapped. ‘It doesn’t matter. Leave it, Malfoy.’

His use of Lucius’s surname wasn’t teasing, this time, so he reluctantly let the matter be. He didn’t really want to see what would happen if Severus decided to duel him--with Lucius’s luck lately, his wand would choose a crucial moment not to obey, and that would be the end. Even if Severus left him alive and in full possession of his faculties, he didn’t think he could bear the humiliation of defeat at the hands of a half-blood. It was better not to test him--especially not until after he’d got a more trustworthy wand. Severus was a…better-than-fair duellist, he grudgingly admitted to himself, and Lucius would need a good wand if he hoped to win, as even with a better wand, it would not be easy to best the younger wizard.

‘Regardless of the source,’ Lucius said coolly. ‘What are these concerns, exactly? In what way are Narcissa and I so deficient in our teachings that… _someone_ felt the need to set you at our heels?’

‘Defence,’ Severus said, without hesitation.

Lucius’s frown deepened. ‘That is for school to teach. Harry and Draco will both have Defence Against the Dark Arts,’ he said with clear distaste, ‘at Hogwarts. In the meantime, they have other things to learn. Besides, Harry is too young to learn any defensive spells.’

‘But he’s old enough to be pummelled by that porker Crabbe,’ he responded icily. ‘Or by his walrus of a Muggle cousin.’

Lucius fell silent.

Severus nodded almost sagely. ‘Until he becomes proficient with a wand, the boy is vulnerable to any physical attack. Even after, should he somehow become separated from his wand. You know as well as I that Crabbe the elder is as likely to use his fists as go for his wand in a fight.’

He nodded slowly. This was true. It was equally true that had the young Crabbe chosen to do so, he could have easily beaten Harry to a pulp, as the Dursley boy had done so frequently. It was only luck that he’d had a brain cell fire and came up with the idea of throwing Harry to the dogs instead. Harry had had a brief fright, been coated in drool, and had come out no worse for wear.

‘Then what do you suggest?’ Lucius asked, his tone sharpened by anxiety and impatience. ‘Harry can’t grow any faster than he already is, and he’s unlikely to ever reach Crabbe’s dimensions anyway….’

‘Size isn’t what’s important,’ Severus said, an eager gleam in his eyes now. He leant forward and rubbed his hands together in quick, twitching motions that reminded Lucius strongly of a spider. ‘In fact, if you know what to do, size can quickly turn to a disadvantage, rather than an asset. I can teach Harry how to use his enemy’s size and strength against him. I can teach him how to defend and incapacitate--in ways that are perfectly legal, both by law and Hogwarts rules, of course. Three days a week--evenings after the summer holidays are over. In a year, he’ll be a match for either Crabbe in a hand-to-hand fight.’

Lucius thought this sounded too good to be true, but Severus was no salesman. It would be outside the bounds of what Lucius knew of his character for him to exaggerate anything in a positive way--it was more like him to downplay and emphasise the negatives than to boast about the advantages. If he said Harry could learn to defend himself in a Muggle-style fight in a year, then more likely he’d learn it in six months.

‘After the little scare we had yesterday….’ He stopped, giving a firm nod. ‘Yes, I think it’s a good idea.’

Severus smirked (he was, as far as Lucius knew, incapable of a genuine smile), but it faded quickly. ‘There is one other thing,’ he said lowly.

The hairs on Lucius’s arms and neck prickled. He sat up straight, wondering what subject could possibly be more dire than Harry’s safety--dreading to know.

‘I’ve had a report from Lupin,’ he went on, his tone remaining quiet and sober. ‘There is a way to keep Harry.’

Lucius’s ears rang and his head spun a little, and for a moment he was tempted to ask Severus to repeat himself. He bit his tongue, tasted blood, tried to force his muscles to relax.

Severus was nodding, and Lucius realised he must have made some outward motion--jerked or twitched or otherwise showed some of his sudden tension.

‘This way is beyond the Ministry’s control, as it involves blood magic. It would be irreversible, and you’d have to be absolutely certain, as would Harry. A goblin has to witness it, but there would be no Ministry investigation, no search for Dark objects. If you adopted Harry, only the magic itself would stand in judgement.’

There was no purer judgement, in Lucius’s view, but he’d stopped at one word--adopted.

‘Adopt Harry?’ he repeated, and it sounded to him like his voice echoed a few times.

Severus jerkily nodded. ‘Yes, yes, I’ve just said--you’ve been looking for a way round the restrictions and investigations that come with a permanent guardianship, haven’t you? A way to avoid the hassle of Abraxas? Well, this is it, I’ve found it for you, and you don’t even have the decency to thank me--’

‘ _Thank_ you?!’ Lucius sputtered. His face felt hot, and his fingers spasmed around the armrests in time with his pulse. ‘ _Thank_ you? For presenting me with a solution equally as impossible as ridding myself of my father and of every little Dark trinket we’ve got? Yes, thank you, Severus--thank you for wasting my time, for raising my hopes for nothing!’

Severus stared at him, and if Lucius hadn’t been so angry, he would have taken smug satisfaction from the utterly flummoxed look on his face.

‘But--you--’ He stopped, shook his head of his consternation, glaring at Lucius with only his eyes giving away his continuing confusion. ‘I don’t understand you, Lucius. You told me you want to keep Harry--you told me you needed to find a way around the permanent guardianship, as you and your family would never pass the investigations. I’ve seen for myself that you care for the boy--you went to Godric’s Hollow for him! I’m _telling you_ how to get round it--why are you angry? What’s wrong with adopting Harry?’

Lucius laughed bitterly. ‘Of course you wouldn’t understand, you stupid half-blood,’ he sneered. ‘I _can’t_ adopt Harry. Of all of the solutions you might have brought before me, this is the one thing I won’t--I _can’t_ do.’

It had been long buried--on the surface, Lucius knew it, but he’d purposely put it from his mind so he could deal with the boy as kindly as he could. Harry Potter was his kin, and a very good, very sweet boy--but in the end, they were not equals. Harry was not the same as Draco, never could be, because his mother’s parents were Muggles. It physically pained Lucius, nauseated him until the bile burned his throat, but the inescapable truth was that Harry was, in most respects, no better than the half-blood sitting before him. They were the same, in all the ways that counted.

Severus still looked confused more than angry, so Lucius spelled it out for him.

‘I can’t adopt a half-blood into the Malfoy family and sully our good name,’ he said, enunciating carefully so he couldn’t be misheard.

Severus reacted as though Lucius had slapped him--he shot to his feet, rocking back dangerously. His dark eyes glittered, his hands clenching into fists, and he snarled silently at Lucius. Only years of experience dealing with the Dark Lord himself kept Lucius from quailing from the rage twisting Severus’s sallow face.

‘Forgive me,’ he ground out, his crooked teeth tightly clenched, spit flying from between them. ‘I’ve obviously been terribly mistaken. Good day.’

He turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving Lucius feeling restless and unsettled. It wasn’t clear whether Severus planned on returning, and that made Lucius anxious. Would he turn on them, go over to Dumbledore’s side? Barring that, would he keep to his plan and return to teach Harry to defend himself?

His rage made Lucius uneasy in general, shedding a little doubt on his gut reaction. He probably shouldn’t have been quite so quick to dismiss the idea--but then, why pretend to entertain the idea, potentially hurting Harry, when it was utterly preposterous that the Malfoys could _ever_ adopt a half-blood child into their family? It was one thing to take him in as a ward and raise him, but to give him their name, to call him one of their own…. It was unthinkable.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he skipped lunch, trying to distract himself with work, rather less successfully than he’d hoped. The day seemed to drag, so he found himself somewhat surprised to realise that it was twenty minutes after they usually had supper. Only a light tapping at his door had stirred him from his attempts to focus.

‘Come in,’ he half-growled.

Harry, the last person he wanted to see at the moment, poked his head inside with a tentative smile. ‘Hi, Cousin Lucius,’ he said cheerfully.

Lucius sighed and set his quill down. ‘Harry.’ He couldn’t help another sigh. ‘Come in, then, what have I told you about standing in doorways?’

Harry scooted inside, shutting the door behind him, and practically scurried over, grinning.

‘In or out, were you born in a barn,’ he repeated dutifully.

‘Precisely,’ Lucius said shortly. ‘What is it, Harry?’

‘Two things,’ Harry said brightly, either taking no notice of Lucius’s tone or simply used to it by now. ‘One, Narcissa asked _me_ to ask _you_ if you’re coming to dinner or not, because if not she says she’s going to send your plate up here and if you don’t eat it, she’s going to do what she does to Draco when he won’t eat his dinner but isn’t sick. I don’t know what that is, because she wouldn’t tell me, but Draco got really pale and started eating really fast, so I don’t think it’s very nice.’

Lucius relaxed a little in spite of himself. ‘She made him eat nothing but greens for a whole day,’ he said, struggling to keep his tone and expression cool. ‘Rather less effective against me, as I like greens.’

‘Except celery and rhubarb,’ Harry added helpfully, ‘and Narcissa knows that, too.’

He grimaced, shuddering a little at the thought. ‘Er…right. You can tell her to send my plate up here, and not to worry, as I have no intention of skipping a second meal today.’

Harry grinned. ‘Great!’

Then his expression turned shy. Lucius couldn’t help leaning forward a little, watching curiously as Harry fiddled with something in his pocket for a moment. His mouth suddenly went dry and his heart seemed to flutter unsteadily when Harry finally withdrew a small, poorly-wrapped package.

‘Happy Birthday, Cousin Lucius,’ he said, smiling shyly as he held out the little box.

Lucius stared, dumbstruck. Only Harry’s slowly fading smile made him reach out, taking the package with a shaking hand. Harry grinned, bouncing a little, reminding him briefly of Draco.

‘How did you know…?’ he rasped out.

He worked very hard to keep his birthday a secret, acknowledging it only in the form of mentally adding a tally to his age on the day. Ever since Draco’s birth, it had only been another day, simply because he’d preferred to put his energies into his son’s celebrations, which brought him much more joy than his own. Narcissa generally made sure supper was something he favoured that night, and left some little trinket in his rooms, but otherwise, no one marked the occasion, and he liked it that way.

This gesture, totally unexpected and genuinely heartfelt, had put him thoroughly off-guard, and after the dark thoughts that had occupied his mind all day, Lucius found himself completely unmanned. He pressed his lips together firmly and blinked hard, hoping Harry would notice nothing amiss.

Harry was holding onto the edge of the desk and grinning impishly, nearly wriggling with anticipation. ‘Narcissa told me. Accidentally, I mean, she thought I’d figured it out on my own. I don’t know how she thought I could have, though, because I checked all the calendars and it wasn’t on any of them, and I don’t think Draco knows. I didn’t ask him, though, because Narcissa said you don’t celebrate it.’ Then he squirmed impatiently. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

Lucius reluctantly tugged at the paper, making a mental note to get his revenge on Narcissa later. The paper gave way to reveal a jeweller’s case. When he flipped it open, he had to draw in a sharp breath to maintain his composure. Two coiled silver snakes with emerald eyes, one with its mouth open and the other with it shut lay nestled in the blue velvet.

‘Harry….’ His throat caught.

Harry just smiled at him, resting his chin on the desk and looking up at him with guileless green eyes.

‘Harry, they’re beautiful,’ he said quietly. ‘Thank you.’

He grinned and bounced to and away from Lucius so fast that he didn’t have time to react to the hug-on-the-fly.

‘You’re welcome!’ he chirruped. ‘I’ll go tell Narcissa you want to eat up here now. Happy Birthday!’

The door closed behind him and all was quiet.

Lucius sat frozen, holding the little case and staring after Harry.


	15. Shuffling Pawns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry begins self-defence classes with Severus, and Draco invites himself along, much to his regret; Dumbledore and Lucius separately continue their preparations for the battle for Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a bit unhappy with the beginning of this one, but hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. :) Feedback is always welcome, and my continuing thanks to all of you for reading, and especially to those of you who've taken the time to leave a comment. You're lovely. :)

Harry straightened his spine and sucked in his stomach, throwing his shoulders back and trying not to chew his lip. Professor Snape had arrived twenty minutes ago, pretty clearly in a foul mood (even for him), and had demanded in clipped tones that Harry change into some clothes for exercising and meet him in the Malfoys’ rarely-used workout room. Harry had obeyed without even checking with Lucius or Narcissa first, mostly because he was a little bit terrified. Draco had caught him in the midst of changing.

‘What are you doing?’ he’d asked, nose scrunching with disgust at Harry’s never-before-used exercise clothes. ‘I thought you were going to teach me to play catch.’

Harry grinned. ‘There’s really not much to it, Draco, we just throw the ball back and forth.’

It was actually going to be a ball of wrapping paper and tissue paper coated in a thick layer of tape, rather than a cricket ball or tennis ball, as Harry would have played with in the Muggle world, had he been allowed. He had neither cricket ball nor tennis ball, and he wasn’t about to ask Lucius or Narcissa if they might go shopping for Muggle sporting equipment. He’d never played any Muggle sports, since the Dursleys would never let him join in Dudley’s fun, so he didn’t really miss any of them, but a Quaffle was a bit too large to properly play catch with, and a Bludger or a Snitch would not do at all, since the ball wasn’t supposed to try to murder you or run away from you.

‘And this is fun how?’ he asked dryly, coming over and snatching up Harry’s sweatshirt, eyeing it with clear distaste.

Harry snatched it back. ‘Well, we talk while we do it, too, and it’ll help us work on our hand-eye coordination, for when you become a world-famous Seeker.’

Draco grimaced. ‘Yeah, right. So why are you putting this ridiculous outfit on? Don’t tell me we need to wear these stupid exercise suits Mother ordered even though she knows we’ll never wear them, _just_ to throw a ball back and forth.’

‘No--we can’t play catch,’ he said glumly. ‘Professor Snape told me to wear this--’

‘Uncle Severus is here?! Why didn’t you say so? Why didn’t he come see me?!’

‘He seems tetchy, so maybe he didn’t want you to think he’s angry with you,’ Harry suggested, pulling the shirt over his head. ‘Anyway, he told me to put on exercise clothes and meet him in the workout room, and this is--’

‘Meet him in the workout room? What for? Never mind--wait for me, I’m coming, too!’

Harry shook his head as Draco dashed off back to his room, but he waited, as requested. Suddenly, the ‘stupid exercise suit’ wasn’t so stupid to Draco anymore, apparently, as he’d donned his own and stood nervously beside Harry as Professor Snape paced in front of them. Snape had raised an eyebrow when Harry arrived with Draco in tow, but he hadn’t asked Draco to leave, either, and had spent the last five minutes or so pacing, gathering his thoughts and looking at them.

He wondered if Draco was regretting coming along now, but he wasn’t brave enough to look at him.

Professor Snape finally stopped and turned to face them, clasping his hands behind his back.

‘Mr Potter.’ He paused. ‘Draco.’

Draco squirmed, probably with pleasure, but Harry still couldn’t tear his eyes off of Snape’s clearly-annoyed face. He wracked his brains, but couldn’t think of what he could have done to displease the professor--he always tried to be on his best behaviour on the evenings when Snape was around, and usually Snape spent his time with Draco and Narcissa anyway, which didn’t leave a lot of opportunity for Harry to annoy him.

‘There was an incident at the birthday party,’ Professor Snape went on.

Harry swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. Lucius hadn’t mentioned it since then, but obviously Professor Snape had not forgotten, and he was displeased with Harry for disrupting his enjoyment.

‘I’m sorr--’

‘No interruptions, Mr Potter,’ the professor said coolly, and Harry’s mouth snapped shut. ‘Your apologies do not change the fact that you were overpowered by that lumbering oaf Vincent Crabbe.’

Draco drew a sharp breath, but neither of them dared to look at each other or interrupt again. Harry’s face burned with humiliation--he’d hoped Draco would never, ever know about that little encounter.

‘Things could have gone worse for you, Mr Potter. Much, much worse.’ Snape’s dark eyes were hard, his expression severe and disapproving. ‘If Mr Crabbe had decided on another method to show his ill feeling toward you, you may have been…in a similar position as with your Muggle cousin, to say the least.’

Harry bowed his head, miserably wondering what the point of all this was. Professor Snape had already made it clear that he didn’t want Harry to apologise, so was this just an elaborate form of humiliating him? At least he hadn’t planned for Draco to be there, so that level of humiliation wasn’t his fault.

‘You must learn to defend yourself,’ Professor Snape said sharply. ‘The first step is developing an exercise routine to improve your level of fitness. Currently, you’re so scrawny even if I taught you the moves, you wouldn’t have the power to use them effectively. Still, we’ll start working on them in addition to building your strength and endurance.’

Harry and Draco did exchange a glance then--this sounded an awful lot like work.

‘First, running laps.’

Draco’s eyes shot comically wide, and Harry felt his jaw drop. This _definitely_ sounded like work. This was the summer holidays! Other than Harry’s extra lessons (which Lucius had warned him about but which hadn’t had a chance to occur yet), they weren’t supposed to have to do work!

But when he looked up at the professor--his cold, dark eyes, and his marble expression--he couldn’t find the voice to argue.

Professor Snape’s brow rose again. ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’

Harry and Draco nearly ran into each other in their haste to get moving.

.

\--------------------

.

Two hours later, two extremely exhausted, sweaty boys dragged themselves to Lucius’s study. Harry stopped Draco from barging in and knocked heavily.

‘Come in,’ Lucius nearly snarled.

Panting, they swung the door open and stumbled in. Harry watched Lucius’s expression fade from angry to puzzled as he took in their disheveled appearance.

‘What happened to you two?’ he asked evenly.

Harry shut the door while Draco draped himself dramatically over the wobbly stool in front of Lucius’s desk.

‘It was Uncle Severus,’ he moaned theatrically. ‘He tried to kill us! We had to run eight _thousand_ laps, and then we did eight _thousand_ sit-ups, and then _ten thousand_ push-ups, and then we had to keep doing this punch move, _over and over and over_ , and no matter how many times we did it, Uncle Severus kept telling us we had to keep doing it and made us go _again_ , and we _almost DIED_!’

Harry sank into his usual chair in the corner, shutting his eyes and blowing out a long breath.

‘Worse, when I whined about it, he said I didn’t have to do it, but he says Harry has to do this three days a week for the rest of forever!’ Draco went on in his whiniest voice. ‘Make him stop, Father!’

For once, Harry completely agreed, he just didn’t have the energy to add his voice to the chorus. It felt like his whole body was aching, his muscles trembling with exhaustion.

To his surprise, Lucius didn’t go storming out or start thundering about how he’d set Professor Snape straight.

‘I…can’t, Draco,’ he said, in an unusually tentative voice. ‘Not this time.’

Harry opened his eyes and sat up, staring in total shock. He was _Lucius_! Of course he could stop Professor Snape from torturing him!

‘There isn’t anything you can’t do!’ he burst out.

Lucius smiled sadly, tapping his quill rhythmically, and wouldn’t meet their eyes. ‘There are many things I can’t do, Harry,’ he said quietly.

Harry and Draco exchanged a disbelieving glance.

Lucius sighed. ‘Boys. I’m very sorry, but I can’t stop Severus. I don’t _want_ to stop him--as miserable as it is for you, Harry, he’s right. You _do_ need to learn to defend yourself, and Severus can teach you the Muggle ways. I can’t. I don’t know how.’

Harry slumped, a bit dazed by the thought that there was _anything_ Lucius didn’t know. If there was, though, he supposed it made sense for it to be the Muggle method of fighting. Professor Snape was a half-blood, with a Muggle father, according to Draco and to Harry’s book of wizard families (Snape’s mother was a pure-blood from the Prince family, or so the book said), so he had probably learnt Muggle things from his father, or even spent a lot of his childhood in the Muggle world. Lucius was a pure-blood wizard, like Draco, and didn’t seem to know much about Muggles at all--and didn’t want to, either. He didn’t like Muggles at all; Harry would have had to be blind not to notice, and his vision was much better ever since he got his new glasses.

Draco moaned again, long and high. ‘Oooooooh! At least come to the next session and make Uncle Severus be nice! He told me I was acting like I had no more brains than a Goyle, and he called Harry a clumsy dunderhead!’

Lucius frowned. ‘Harry, is that true?’

Harry nodded, and he couldn’t help a little pout himself. ‘And he said that if I thought I was too good to learn this, then I could just go get myself beat up, and he said I was acting just like my father, but he said it like it was a bad thing,’ he agreed, his pout becoming more pronounced at the memory.

Lucius’s frown deepened, and he didn’t speak for a while.

Draco shot Harry a smug look--he obviously thought this would convince his father that Harry didn’t need these lessons. Harry didn’t agree. Lucius had been very concerned when he and Professor Snape found Harry locked in with Butch, and he’d only got more worried when Harry explained how it had happened. He wasn’t likely to be swayed from the idea that Harry needed to learn to defend himself.

And part of Harry liked the idea, too--Snape had claimed that in a year, Harry would know how to use his opponent’s size and strength against them to incapacitate them, so he could get away safely. He very much liked the idea of never being at the mercy of another Dudley or Crabbe again.

He just wished Professor Snape was a little nicer about it.

‘I shall speak to Severus about that,’ Lucius said at last.

Harry thought he could detect a note of anxiety in Lucius’s voice, but he quickly brushed it off. Lucius wasn’t afraid of _anything_ \--not Dumbledore, not Godric’s Hollow, and _certainly_ not Professor Snape!

‘And perhaps I _will_ join you for your next lesson.’ He looked down at himself and grimaced. ‘It’s come to my attention that I’ve got a bit…soft in recent years.’

Draco grinned. ‘It’ll be loads more fun with you there!’

‘Thank you, Cousin Lucius,’ Harry said in a more restrained tone.

Lucius waved his quill and turned back to his paperwork. ‘Yes, yes. Now I suggest you both get upstairs and have a bath before your mother sees you.’

They obediently slid off their chairs, but watched curiously as Lucius’s face turned white and his expression froze. He stared at Harry; Harry stared back in total confusion.

‘Narcissa,’ Lucius said hoarsely. ‘Before _Narcissa_ sees you.’

Harry tilted his head. ‘Yes, sir.’

They filed out quickly, and Draco shut the door a great deal more quietly than normal. He looked just as confused as Harry, his pointed face wrinkled until he looked like a very pale, hairless Shar-Pei.

‘What was _that_ about?’ he wondered.

Harry shrugged. He was as clueless as Draco. He _knew_ Narcissa wasn’t his mother, too--how could Lucius possibly imagine that he would forget? It was never far from Harry’s thoughts that he was only here on his cousins’ sufferance and goodwill, that he could be sent away for an infraction unforgivable enough. He loved Narcissa, but he could never forget, not even for a moment, that she was Draco’s mother, not his. _His_ mum was dead.

Draco sighed, shaking his head. ‘Father’s getting weirder every day. Let’s go get cleaned up.’

Harry nodded in agreement and followed Draco upstairs. He didn’t think Lucius was getting weird, but something was _definitely_ bothering him.

.

\---------------------

.

‘Severus!’ Lucius called. ‘Severus, stop!’

The younger wizard stopped before the gate with clear reluctance, turning to face Lucius with a scowl. He didn’t retrace his steps at all, forcing Lucius to come to him. Lucius said nothing about it because he knew he was treading on thin ice with Severus as it was--he didn’t want Severus to become irate enough with him not to come at all. Harry really did need these lessons.

‘What do you want?’ Severus snarled as soon as Lucius was within normal speaking range.

Lucius stopped where he was, keeping an eye on Severus’s wand hand, and carefully controlled his tone when he spoke. ‘I want to talk to you.’

‘About?’

‘I want….’

He stopped, nearly swallowing his tongue on his self-loathing. Severus raised a brow, relaxing a fraction with either curiosity or amusement. His expression was still too hard and sour for Lucius to really tell.

‘I would like…your permission,’ Lucius gritted out, feeling real physical pain in his chest, ‘to join your sessions with Harry.’

Severus’s brow rose a little higher.

His teeth squeaked as he clenched them a little tighter. ‘Please.’

He snorted. ‘Why would you want to join in? Aren’t _Muggle_ exercises a bit beneath you?’

Lucius drew himself up stiffly. ‘If they’re good enough for Harry and my son, they’re good enough for me. Besides, they have both complained of your…callous comments during training. Perhaps if I’m present, you won’t feel free to take such liberties,’ he added coldly.

They were not, after all, _Severus’s_ children, and Lucius wouldn’t stand for him treating them the way he did his students. Once they were at Hogwarts, at least they would be old enough to stand up for themselves and to handle it, but right now, Draco was barely eight and Harry not far behind him--hardly old enough to recognise that Severus’s words were intended to inspire them to work harder. Not that Lucius agreed with his methods. There was a definite difference between criticism and earned censure, and…whatever Severus called it when he constantly insulted and berated his students. He wondered how Muggle children functioned, if Severus was an example of how they raised and educated their offspring.

Severus sneered. ‘Raising such delicate little flowers that they can’t take a few off-colour remarks, eh, Malfoy? They’ll do just _splendidly_ in school. Hope they enjoy having their heads dunked in the toilet.’

Lucius was surprised that his breath didn’t steam when he exhaled. ‘You had no business bringing your issues with Harry’s father into these lessons,’ he hissed, glowering unflinchingly into Severus’s dark gaze. He’d forgotten about Legilimency and eye contact and pretty much everything except Harry at the moment, and he did not care. ‘That has no place in your interactions with Harry at all--do you _want_ him to hate these lessons? If he hates them, he won’t try, and then he’ll learn nothing. Isn’t that rather the opposite of our intention? I thought you wanted him to know how to defend himself--it was _your_ idea! Or is your half-bl--’

He cut off the insult, drawing back and biting his tongue. It was a little too close to their argument about-- _from before_.

Severus stared at him, his brow furrowed in an expression Lucius had never seen on his face before.

‘Yes,’ he said slowly, when Lucius remained silent. ‘I remember that it was my idea.’

Lucius said nothing. His throat felt strangely rough and fuzzy, and he didn’t trust his voice if he tried to speak.

‘I shall…take that under advisement,’ Severus continued, that odd expression deepening. ‘You…may have a point.’ He looked away, rubbing his jaw in a twitchy motion. ‘And you may join the sessions.’ His perpetual sneer returned as he eyed Lucius up and down. ‘Merlin knows you could use the exercise. Getting a bit soft round the middle, old man.’

Lucius snorted, relaxing a bit despite himself at this return of some normalcy between them. ‘Right. Thank you.’

He opened his mouth to say more, but almost immediately decided to let it be.

Severus shot him a sceptical glance. ‘You’re welcome. Now am I allowed to leave, oh mighty blond one? I do have plans to spend my summer in other places besides Malfoy Manor, you know.’

‘Yes, because Spinner’s End is a delightful place to be,’ Lucius said, deadpan.

He scowled. ‘I have other friends.’

‘Sure, you do.’

Severus’s scowl twisted as he tried not to grin. There was nothing he liked better than an exchange of insults.

‘I’m going now. Pure-blood snob.’

Lucius couldn’t help but smile, because he knew he’d been forgiven. ‘Greaseball.’

.

\----------------------

.

Dumbledore was a little more pleased with this meeting--everyone seemed much more attentive and concerned, as they should be. He’d been worried that Rita Skeeter’s increasingly pro-Malfoy articles were getting to them, particularly Arthur, as he knew Molly trusted her articles almost implicitly, ever since the first war, when Ms Skeeter had faithfully reported on the brave deaths of Molly’s brothers. While he understood the sentiment, he was also aware that Rita Skeeter wrote what her audience wished to hear, more often than not, and he had his suspicions that she might be on the Malfoys’ payroll, since a trusted source had reported seeing Lucius and Rita leaving the _Daily Prophet_ office at roughly the same time. It wasn’t concrete proof, naturally, but it was a possibility that Dumbledore couldn’t dismiss, knowing Lucius as he did.

Regardless of the articles, they all seemed to be taking the situation seriously again. Kingsley and Alastor had reported that the Ministry’s investigation was stalling. They had interviewed the Dursleys exhaustively and searched their former residence, and now all that remained was interviewing Lucius, who had ‘rescued’ the boy and witnessed some interaction between him and the Dursleys firsthand, and interviewing Harry himself. Then would come compiling an official report, followed by a hearing to present their findings to all interested parties.

‘None of them want to go to Malfoy Manor, and I can’t say as I blame ’em,’ Alastor said, leaning on his staff. ‘Not to mention that both of the field agents are terrified of upsetting Potter. They don’t want half the wizarding world at their throats.’

Remus, who was much more alert today, smiled benignly. ‘I’m sure they’re exaggerating.’

Alastor snorted. ‘That Skeeter woman watches Potter like a hawk. If he so much as sneezes, it’s in the _Prophet_ the next day, and then there are floods of angry letters to the editor, demanding to know why the Malfoys didn’t make him wear a cloak.’

His sneer made it perfectly clear what he thought of that.

Remus’s smile widened, and Arthur piped up cheerfully, ‘What’s more, in the next picture, Harry’s wearing a cloak.’

‘Which means that the Malfoys are taking note of what the press is saying about them,’ Kingsley said with a chiding tone.

‘They would be fools not to,’ Dumbledore said mildly. ‘Any estimations of how long it will be until the investigation is complete?’

Kingsley didn’t sneer, but his deadpan expression left no doubt of his agreement with Alastor. ‘Based on the level of terror, the field agents won’t move until the administrator makes them. It will probably be August or September before the hearing.’

He nodded sagely. ‘I expected as much. We have time to run our own investigation, then.’

‘Investigation into what?’ Arthur asked, as all of them were sharp enough to realise that he meant something new.

‘The Malfoys, naturally,’ Dumbledore said, smiling. ‘It is unlikely that Lucius will be able to cover or erase every trail of his family’s dealings, particularly if we manage to compile the evidence before he does. That way, even if he manages to fulfil every other requirement of a permanent guardianship, we can ensure that he fails in one aspect at least. Anything we can find to use against them is one more tool toward our goal of getting Harry away from them, and back where he’ll be safe.’

They all nodded--save Severus--although Arthur looked a little troubled by that. Arthur had a good heart, almost too good, and it probably bothered him to resort to such tactics. Still, Dumbledore’s detection wards had turned up no signs of any of his inner circle being compromised, and he trusted Arthur to be as faithful as he always had been.

‘You’re certain Lucius still hasn’t applied for permanent status?’ he asked Kingsley, rather than call Arthur out.

Kingsley nodded. ‘He has until next March to apply, since he filed for and was granted temporary custody in March of this year. It’s possible that he, too, is considering the scrutiny he’ll be subjected to and is making preparations.’

Dumbledore looked to his inside man. ‘Severus?’

Severus shook his head curtly. ‘He’s made no moves as far as I have seen. He still hasn’t seen fit to confide his plans to me; however, the Dark objects around the manor are still where they have always been.’

Arthur frowned at that, craning his neck awkwardly to look at Severus where he leaned against the wall near the door. ‘Isn’t Lucius afraid of Harry or Draco touching one of them and being cursed?’

Severus’s eyes gleamed and his sneer turned slightly amused. ‘They are not in places where small children can reach.’

‘Even Lucius isn’t _that_ stupid,’ Remus joked.

‘The Malfoys aren’t stupid,’ Alastor growled, ‘and you’d do well to remember it, squatting outside their house like you are. You let yourself get complacent, next thing you know--WHAM! _Constant vigilance_!’

Dumbledore hid a smile, and Remus slid down in his chair, looking chastened.

‘Anything else to report, Severus?’ Dumbledore asked.

‘Actually, yes,’ Severus said, almost disinterestedly. ‘Lucius has asked me to teach Harry, Draco, and himself the Muggle art of self-defence. I have begun teaching them three times a week, as I assumed you wouldn’t object to Harry knowing how to defend himself, should unpleasant circumstances arise.’

Dumbledore inclined his head in agreement. It saddened him to acknowledge, but self-defence of any kind was probably the most important skill Harry could learn for the difficult life ahead of him. He was too young to learn the spells that would be most advantageous to him, but for now, hopefully Severus’s more physical teachings would be enough.

Arthur sputtered. ‘Wait a second-- _Lucius_ is learning Muggle self-defence? Does he know it’s a Muggle thing?’

‘Yes,’ Severus said sourly. ‘He wasn’t originally going to take part in the lessons, but his presence greatly improves the boys’ performance, and so he has made himself my pupil.’ Then a thought occurred to him and he grinned nastily. ‘You should see him running laps.’

Arthur’s jaw dropped and he said nothing, utterly gobsmacked.

Remus shot a wary glance at Alastor before he spoke. ‘Is he slow?’ he asked innocently.

Severus’s grin widened. ‘Huffs and puffs like the Hogwarts Express, and the boys run two laps for every one of his. He tripped yesterday and fell flat on his face,’ he added with a nearly blissful expression.

That got an amused snort out of Alastor, of all people.

‘He _is_ improving,’ Severus admitted grudgingly when Remus just continued to blink at him.

They were getting off-track again, and Dumbledore had two more concerns on his mind before he dismissed them for the evening.

‘In addition to compiling evidence against the Malfoys, we must also continue our search for another family that can pass the requirements for permanent guardianship,’ he said seriously. ‘Harry _must_ be returned to the Dursleys, if he is to live to face Voldemort, and so it must be a family who will understand the unusual circumstances.’

Remus was out due to his condition, the Child Welfare Office had already rejected the Weasleys on different grounds, and none of the rest of them were married, which was requirement number one, even for a temporary guardianship. The Ministry did not entrust their orphans to single-parent families. Dumbledore had often wondered what might have happened if the Child Welfare Office had existed before 1968--perhaps when an infant Tom Riddle had been born and then orphaned by his heart-broken mother…. But, he reminded himself, it was useless to speculate now. It was far too late to change Tom’s fate. Tom was the reason Dumbledore had supported the idea of a Child Welfare Office to the Ministry, when a couple of young politicians looking to make a name for themselves had hatched the idea and asked him to help. Cornelius, unfortunately, hadn’t had a good idea since then, and Dumbledore suspected that he’d fooled his partner into thinking that he’d helped come up with the plan when in fact he’d merely borne witness to its birth. His more intelligent partner, a former Ravenclaw, as he recalled, a bright girl, had been killed during the first war, sadly.

Kingsley looked uncomfortable. ‘We understand that, Albus, but that’s what’s making it so difficult to find a willing family. Anyone who would be fit to raise Harry Potter wants to do exactly that--they want to _raise_ him, not pass him off to the Dursleys while pretending to raise him. If those weren’t the conditions, then the Diggorys and the Tonkses would already have agreed.’

Dumbledore’s brows rose in surprise. ‘Andromeda? She wouldn’t mind stealing her sister’s prize? I thought they were on better terms lately….’

Severus had reported Narcissa visiting the Tonks family twice, that he knew of.

Kingsley merely frowned. ‘I don’t know, she and Ted just said no after we told them that Harry would be going back to the Dursleys after he officially became their ward.’

He tried not to show his frustration. Why couldn’t they all understand? He’d explained it all to them--how Harry would be safest under the blood wards, how those wards could only be erected around the home of his nearest maternal blood relative if Harry lived with Petunia, how very _specific_ it all was because of the circumstances of his mother’s sacrifice. Why could they not accept that Harry could only truly be safe from Voldemort with Petunia? It was dangerous to place him anywhere else until he was old enough to defend himself--and the blood protections faded, of course. He’d already sworn to himself and to them that _this_ time, he would speak to Petunia and her husband personally, to make the conditions under which Harry was to live clear to them. Was his word not enough?

‘Very well. Keep looking,’ he said grimly. ‘There is one other matter that I wished to discuss. It has come to my attention in my research that there is another way for Lucius to gain complete custody of Harry, and the Ministry would have no say in the matter. A blood-binding adoption.’

Remus and Severus stared at him flatly. Arthur reddened, but otherwise showed no reaction. Alastor nodded with a grimace.

‘What’s that?’ Kingsley wondered. ‘I thought a permanent guardianship _was_ an adoption.’

‘That is a common misconception,’ Dumbledore said, assuming that the others were simply dumbstruck. ‘Real, magical adoption is unpopular because it is blood magic. Only a small amount is used, but it makes the process irreversible. Nothing drastic actually occurs--Harry would lose none of his inheritance or his privileges as a member of the Potter family, and he would still be considered the head of that household. His appearance and blood would remain unchanged.’

‘Then what is the point of it?’ Arthur asked, slightly choked.

‘Harry and the Malfoys would have a magical affinity as strong as if he had been born into that family, and Harry would _also_ be considered a legal member of the Noble House of Malfoy. If anything were to happen to Draco, Harry would become its next heir. His name would change to Harry Malfoy after the ritual. Most of the ramifications are legal, and the rest magical. For example, in a vengeance curse--if someone cursed the Malfoy family for a wrong, Harry would be included in the curse, as a member of the family. It’s relatively harmless, as blood magics go, and in the past it was used as a way to bind houses together, generally to end feuds, when none of the eligible offspring were of marrying age, without disinheriting the child from their former family, as that would have defeated the purpose.’

There was a long pause.

‘Is there any way to prevent it?’ Kingsley asked quietly.

Dumbledore shook his head. ‘Not if Harry and all of the Malfoys are willing and can find a willing goblin witness.’ He turned to Severus. ‘My question is, _are_ they willing?’

Severus sneered with deep disgust. ‘No. Or at least, Lucius is not,’ he corrected, his eyes dark and cold with anger. ‘I had also discovered this form of adoption, and when I broached the subject with him, he reacted with total revulsion. He completely abhors the idea of adopting a half-blood into the family. He made it very clear that while he is fond of the boy and has no objection to keeping him on as a ward, he would never sully the Malfoy name with such dirty blood. He does not even consider it an option.’

Remus and Arthur stared hard at Severus, possibly not wholly believing such a vehement statement, but Dumbledore was vastly relieved. He’d half expected as much, but to have Severus confirm it took a load from his mind.

‘Good work, Severus,’ he said kindly. ‘Thank you. Keep searching for a family to stand in as Harry’s guardians, and don’t forget to gather as much evidence as you can against the Malfoys.’

They broke up with varying levels of satisfaction, but Dumbledore was very comforted by the whole meeting. He had his trusted team back, even if they didn’t quite trust each other, and he was well on his way to making certain that Harry would soon be back where he belonged. It was even possible, he reflected, that Harry’s time amongst pure-blood supremacist wizards would make him more eager to fight against their cause, when the time came.

.

\-----------------

.

‘What. In the world. Are you doing.’

Lucius carefully slid aside a teetering stack of books so he could see his very perturbed wife staring at him from the end of the row of bookcases, her hands on her hips.

‘Collecting all of our books on Dark magic,’ he said shortly, and hunched back down to keep sorting.

‘Okay…. Why?’ He heard her footsteps drawing closer, a few thumps as she picked up and set down a couple of the books, making the stacks wobble dangerously. ‘I mean, not that it’s any of my business, since only, oh, about _half_ of these are mine.’

Lucius sighed at her snippy tone, rolling his neck to stretch the kinks out. ‘Because when we apply for permanent custody of Harry, the Aurors will be searching our entire house for Dark books and objects. I mustn’t miss even one, or we’ll be rejected.’

Narcissa skirted round the piles of books and peered at him with a frown. ‘Where are you going to put everything?’

‘Most of it will be binned,’ Lucius said, eyeing _Ritual Sacrifices: A Beginner’s Guide to Making a Profit Out of Bloodshed_ with distaste. ‘Why do we have this?’

She squinted at the title, then shrugged. ‘It was a gift. From Bellatrix, I think. Although it might have been her husband.’

Lucius pulled a face and tossed it on one of the stacks, immediately regretting the action when it threatened to topple.

‘And the ones that you aren’t throwing out?’

He exhaled so hard a cloud of dust rose from one of the piles, causing both of them to fan at the air and cough.

‘Do the house elves _never_ clean in here?’ she complained, casting a cleaning charm at the offending stack after the dust had settled again.

‘A few of them I’ll sell at Borgin & Burkes, the rest I’ll…have to hide. Somehow,’ he muttered.

Some of them were family heirlooms (mostly Malfoy, but Narcissa had a few Black ones), passed down through the generations, and despite their Dark or borderline-Dark content, Lucius couldn’t bear to part with them. There were some compromises he simply couldn’t bring himself to make. Besides the fact that the books were a material connection to their heritage, some of them contained knowledge that would otherwise be lost. It was important not to lose knowledge, even of the Dark magics, because even if one didn’t intend to use them, how could they be defended against in total ignorance of their existence? They couldn’t, could they? That was how Lucius rationalised it to himself, and he was satisfied with his logic, since it meant keeping the books at such great risk was no longer based on sentiment alone.

‘The Aurors will find them,’ Narcissa said shortly. ‘You can’t hide them well enough, not when they’re searching the potential home of the Boy Who Lived.’

Lucius flinched at the title and didn’t answer. He was still very confused about his feelings toward Harry, roused by Severus, and he’d been trying not to think about it. It had been so easy to like Harry, to grow fond of him. He was a sweet, obedient boy. Lucius had simply forgotten that he was also a half-blood, purportedly his enemy, and he hadn’t cared to remind himself of the fact. He knew Harry was hurt by his recent distant behaviour, but he was afraid to let himself be so free with him again, to let down his guard again.

He wasn’t, after all, Lucius’s son--he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

‘What do you expect to do about Abraxas’s part of the house, then?’ Narcissa asked when he remained silent for too long. ‘Even supposing you hide the books in our vaults, what do you expect will happen when they try to enter Abraxas’s wing?’

Lucius looked helplessly down the long bookcase, away from her. He’d cleared half of one shelf of Dark books, only…the entire rest of the library to go. And he hadn’t even touched on his study, Narcissa’s study, or started locating any of the many Dark artefacts, potions and poisons hidden throughout the house. His shoulders slumped with the weight of the monumental task before him.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, forlorn.

Narcissa sighed, and then the silence stretched between them for a moment, then another.

He had no idea how he was going to deal with his father, and the task before him _was_ enormous, but the only way it was going to get done was if he kept going. Less energetically than before, he reached for another book and dusted it off, peering at the cover to try and decide if it was considered Dark or not. Not all of them were as obvious about it as _Ritual Sacrifices_.

Narcissa sighed again. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’

He grunted, but she didn’t walk away right away. When he looked up in enquiry, he saw that her expression was tight, her lips pressed together into a thin line.

‘Are you going to go for a walk with Harry today?’ she asked shortly.

Lucius stiffened. He’d forgotten--it was Sunday. They went for walks in the evening.

‘Of course,’ he said silkily, forcing himself to relax. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve been avoiding him for the past three weeks. He has noticed--he asked me this morning what he has done to alienate you.’

Lucius barely contained a flinch, echoing the pang of guilt in his chest. ‘I haven’t been avoiding him. We still go for our Sunday walk. We see one another at meals.’

‘You don’t make eye contact with him, you address most of your responses to Draco, and you fob both boys off on me or on Remus or Severus as often as you can. He was bound to notice sooner or later,’ she added sharply. ‘He isn’t stupid.’

He went back to his task, pretending to be unaffected. ‘I know he isn’t stupid. What did you tell him?’

Narcissa huffed, probably at his seeming lack of concern. ‘I told both of the boys that you’ve been extraordinarily busy lately and that you don’t intend to brush them off. Draco has seen you during busy phases before, so he accepted the excuse. Harry was…less convinced, I think, although he didn’t argue the point.’

_He wouldn’t,_ Lucius thought. Harry rarely argued, and when he did, it was usually a sign that he was tired--or that he really, _really_ didn’t want to eat or do whatever was being asked of him, as he wasn’t a complete pushover, either. He was simply better at picking his battles than Draco was.

‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘Good.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I’m a bit busy.’

Narcissa sighed again and then he finally heard her turn and leave.

Maybe he’d have the house elves seek out all of the Dark objects. Books were just too subjective to leave to their judgement.

‘This is going to take forever,’ Lucius groaned, the sound swallowed up by the silent, still room.

Time was a luxury he did not feel he had.


	16. Last Day in the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco spend a day enjoying the mid-summer weather, but a sobering piece of news at the end of the day spoils it. Lucius struggles with the incompatibility of his values with his feelings for Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay--computer trouble is largely to blame. Hopefully fixed now. Anyway, this is mostly just for character development stuff this time around.
> 
> I do mention a fan theory (not invented by me) about the origin of Muggle-borns--namely, that they're the distant descendants of Squibs who chose to live in the Muggle world. I don't agree or disagree with this theory, or any other Muggle-born origin theory, but I assumed that since we, the fans, have multiple theories about it, why wouldn't wizards, too? It is not presented as a statement of fact by myself or the characters.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and an especially big thanks to those of you who have left comments! I've received so many wonderful comments, it's truly humbling. Thank you all so, so much. :) I hope everyone continues to enjoy the story! Feedback of any kind is, as always, welcome and very much appreciated. :)

Harry wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but ever since Lucius and Draco’s birthday, Lucius had been very distant with him. He wasn’t overtly angry or annoyed with him, though. He just seemed…preoccupied. But only with Harry, which was why he was certain that he’d somehow offended his cousin. He still listened to Draco’s stories with mixed annoyance and amusement, and he still spoke softly with Narcissa when Draco was holding court with Remus or Professor Snape, smiling the little smile he reserved for her.

With Harry, though, when they went for walks, his eyes and thoughts were elsewhere, his responses vague and disconnected. Harry had taken to remaining silent unless Lucius chose to speak to him. He was very glad that Narcissa and Draco hadn’t gone on any shopping trips lately--he didn’t want to risk being alone with Abraxas about the house, since he was certain Lucius wouldn’t be inviting him into his study any time soon.

Draco had started to notice Lucius’s distance, too, and to Harry’s surprise, he stood by Harry, growing sullen with Lucius, shooting him resentful glares when he thought he wasn’t looking. This morning was a prime example, as he hadn’t filled the breakfast table with his cheerful chatter, instead brooding over his eggs and glowering at Lucius whenever his head turned away. Harry appreciated the support, but privately wished Draco wouldn’t--he hated to think he was coming between father and son yet again, so soon after the rift with Draco had been repaired.

‘Any plans for today, Draco?’ Lucius asked lightly.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. ‘No,’ he said, his hostility plainer than ever. ‘Why?’

Lucius blinked, taken off-guard by the open belligerence. Harry saw him look to Narcissa for answers, but she turned to her eggs, refusing to make eye contact. He looked between Draco and Narcissa again, and finally turned to Harry, his brow raised. Harry could only offer a shrug, and started toying with his eggs, too, his stomach squirming uncomfortably.

His cousin subsided, picking up his newspaper in lieu of continuing to stare in confusion.

Narcissa mustered a smile and broke the tense silence. ‘So, Harry, have you given any thought to your birthday?’

Harry nearly choked on his own spit and had to cough to clear it. ‘My--my birthday?’

Draco grinned, first at his mother and then at Harry, but he stayed quiet.

Narcissa’s smile grew more natural. ‘Yes, Harry dear, your birthday. What would you like to do? Would you like a party, like Draco’s? You haven’t written a list of presents you’d like, either. You should do so soon, so that Draco and I will have a chance to go shopping.’

Harry’s heart felt like it stopped. ‘…Presents? I get presents?’

Lucius lowered his paper and looked at Harry with an unreadable expression, his brow wrinkled. Narcissa got that sad, pinched expression she wore every time Harry’s experiences with the Dursleys came up. Neither of them said anything.

Draco’s mouth was hanging open. ‘Of course you get presents!’ he squawked, his face rapidly reddening. ‘Everyone gets presents on their birthday! And on Christmas!’

Harry felt his own face heating and poked at his eggs half-heartedly. ‘Not everyone,’ he mumbled.

He was about to tell Draco about how Aunt Petunia had often lectured Harry that there were children in some parts of the world who didn’t even get to eat regularly, let alone as often as Harry did, and they certainly didn’t get to have any presents, and also about a girl at his and Dudley’s school who hadn’t celebrated Christmas, so when the other kids were making Christmas trees out of coloured paper cut-outs and drawing lumpy reindeer and practising carols in music class, she was allowed to make other designs and drawings, and she wrote a short essay instead of singing--but Draco didn’t give him a chance to continue.

‘Yes! _Everyone_!’ he snapped, and then stopped just short of banging his fork on the table, taking a deep breath and making a visible effort to calm himself, cutting off his tantrum at the knees.

Harry glanced at Lucius and Narcissa and saw that he was not the only one surprised by this.

‘Haven’t you ever received a present?’ Draco asked after a moment, his manner and tone much more restrained.

‘Draco,’ Lucius started, glaring a bit.

‘No, it’s okay,’ Harry said, risking interrupting. He wasn’t comfortable with talking about the Dursleys, but this wasn’t about them, not _exactly_ , anyway, and he was so impressed by Draco trying to control himself that he kind of felt like he deserved an answer. ‘Um. Well…when I got here, you bought me clothes and things, and gave me my own room, and Cousin Lucius went to Godric’s Hollow….’

Draco’s face got so red that it made him look like a tomato wearing a wig. Harry very carefully did not smile at the thought, afraid of setting Draco off.

To their continued surprise, Draco did not start shouting. His pointed face twisted unattractively, but all he did was shake his head and rather viciously stab a sausage link.

‘It’s not right,’ he said curtly. ‘Those weren’t proper presents.’

Narcissa smiled and patted Draco’s shoulder, which seemed to calm him a little more. ‘Draco is right, Harry darling. You deserve to have birthday presents. _Real_ presents. You can think about what you’d like for a few days. In the meantime, any requests for food? Activities?’

Harry felt a bit faint, his heart beating rapidly, and he could feel his mouth stretching in a dazed grin without his permission. He was going to have _presents_ \--a real _birthday_ , for the first time ever!

‘Could we have a cake?’ he blurted, bouncing so abruptly that one of his eggs rolled off his plate. ‘I’ve never had a birthday cake before! With blue icing?’

‘Of course!’ she said brightly. ‘What flavour would you like?’

The boys exchanged grins.

‘Chocolate!’

She laughed, her eyes twinkling merrily. ‘Very well! Anything else? Or would you like some time to think it over?’

Harry squirmed. There _was_ something--a secret little longing he’d had for ages. He’d never been allowed to go along on any of Dudley’s birthday excursions, and three times he’d chosen to go to the zoo. When he returned, he was overflowing with tales of exotic, strange-looking animals that Harry had only read about in school, or seen illustrations of in picture books, or a couple that he’d never heard of at all. Dudley, in a benevolent mood from the good time he’d had, had entertained Harry’s questions gladly, but it wasn’t the same as going and seeing them in person.

There was just _one_ problem with that….

‘There aren’t…there aren’t any magical zoos, are there?’ he asked uncomfortably.

Lucius and Draco blinked at him.

‘Zoos?’ Draco repeated.

Narcissa straightened, shooting Lucius a smug look. ‘They’re a Muggle invention. They put animals in cages for other Muggles to look at, so that the Muggles will want to help save the animals from being wiped out by _other_ Muggles.’

Draco blinked again. ‘Does it work?’

She didn’t know that, apparently, as her lips thinned and she lost her smugness.

‘A little bit,’ Harry piped up. ‘Even Uncle Vernon donated five pounds to a conservation program, after Dudley cried because the tigers are all getting killed off. Of course, he only cared about the tigers, none of the other ones, because tigers are “cool.” Well, he thought so at first, until the second time they went and the tiger was sleeping, and even Uncle Vernon yelling at it wouldn’t make it move.’

Draco laughed. ‘Muggles are stupid!’

Narcissa smiled. ‘To answer your question, Harry, no, there are no magical zoos. Most magical creatures would be too dangerous to keep in captivity for viewing purposes. We usually have a more…constructive purpose in mind when we contain them. For example, it is highly dangerous but entirely possible to keep a dragon in captivity. The expense and danger involved mean that there must be more reason than simply to look at it. We generally use them to guard our most precious properties.’

Harry stared. He was still more than a little terrified of the idea of having to fight one someday. He really, really hoped they were ‘contained’ very, very, _very_ well. He didn’t want to get eaten or burnt to a crisp.

Draco, however, was still thinking about Dudley and the tigers, evidently, because he suddenly said, rather wistfully, ‘I’ve never seen a tiger.’

‘Neither have I, except for pictures in books,’ Harry said glumly. ‘But I should probably tell you, they’re not like dragons. Most animals just lie there, according to Dudley, and even when they move, they’re just normal. They don’t breathe fire or turn water into wine or change the seasons or anything.’

‘That’s okay! I don’t need them to do anything, I just want to see them,’ Draco insisted. ‘Do you think _Blaise_ has ever been to a Muggle zoo? Hardly! The next time we see each other, I’ll be able to tell him that _I_ saw a tiger, and he never has.’

He looked gleefully smug at the prospect. Harry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help a smile, because even though Draco only wanted to go for bragging rights among his friends, he still wanted to go, and that would undoubtedly help convince Lucius and Narcissa--both of whom were staring with horrified expressions.

‘ _M-Muggle_?’ Lucius choked, and then his mouth kept moving but no sound came out. His face was rapidly turning purple as he forgot to breathe.

‘Harry darling, you didn’t actually _mean_ for us to _go_ to a Muggle zoo, did you? I’m sure you’ve just misunderstood, Draco,’ Narcissa said with more than a little desperation.

Harry bit his lip, sagging a little despite his attempt to maintain his posture. ‘Well….’

Draco looked at his parents and then started pouting at his eggs. ‘Oh, fine,’ he sighed. ‘We don’t have to, I guess.’

Harry nodded his agreement and tried to firm up his chin, which kept trying to quiver. ‘It was just an idea,’ he agreed softly, but his voice was a little more croaky than he’d hoped for.

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a miserable look.

‘I suppose,’ Narcissa said tentatively, ‘just this _once_ ….’

Draco and Harry shared a hopeful glance and turned as one to look at Lucius, fighting to keep the grins off their faces.

He looked really and truly agonised, his face going through painful contortions as he mulled the idea over. Harry was tempted to put him out of his misery and say they didn’t have to go, but…he really, _really_ wanted to go, almost as much as Draco had wanted that fire-breathing dragon toy.

‘Oh…all right,’ Lucius fairly groaned, seeming to collapse inward as he made the concession. ‘But only because it’s your birthday.’

He might have said more, but Harry didn’t hear him over his and Draco’s cheers.

In high spirits, Harry was able to ignore Lucius’s annoyed expression and gladly accepted Draco’s invitation to go swimming after breakfast.

‘I’m coming to supervise,’ Narcissa said, trying to sound stern but failing. ‘The last thing we need is one of you drowning the other.’

Still, she must not have been that worried, because she brought a book with her.

Lucius stopped being quite so distant long enough to halt them at the door. He scolded Draco because he’d forgotten to bring a towel, and then while he was off retrieving one, he turned to Harry with a pinched expression.

‘You’re _sure_ you can swim?’ he demanded tightly.

Harry nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sure. And not just dog-paddle--they taught us _real_ swimming. Muggles know how to swim, too, Cousin Lucius.’

He did not appear mollified.

‘I’ll be out there watching,’ Narcissa reassured him. ‘Nothing is going to happen.’

 _That_ didn’t appear to mollify him, either, but when Draco returned, he dismissed them curtly and went back to his study.

‘If he’s so worried about Harry, then why has he been avoiding him?’ Draco groused as they tramped out to the lake, gesturing wildly with his towel for emphasis. ‘First, he acts like Harry can do no wrong, and now it’s like he can’t stand the sight of him. It isn’t right!’

‘I’m not sure, Draco,’ Narcissa murmured, plucking his towel off of a branch when it got caught. ‘Let’s just try to have fun, all right?’

Draco grumbled something, but when Harry nudged his shoulder and smiled, he reluctantly smiled back.

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘ _Yes_ , not _yeah_ , Draco darling.’

They traded grins, but Draco’s grin faded as the lake came into view.

‘Hey, where are the cranes?’ he asked his mother, pouting. ‘They’re always right here.’

Harry didn’t see any cranes, only a pair of wild geese who’d moved in for the first time this spring. Narcissa had commented on it, as the swans in the reflecting pool usually deterred any other waterfowl besides the cranes from settling anywhere else on the property. He liked the geese, and was pleased to see that they were still there, quietly swimming on the opposite end of the lake.

Narcissa frowned. ‘Their wings are clipped…they couldn’t have got far,’ she mumbled, half to herself. Then she forced a smile. ‘I’ll tell your father later. They probably just wandered over to the reflecting pool.’

‘Race you to the water!’ Harry said when Draco looked set to go off looking himself--he liked chasing them.

‘Last one in’s a house elf’s toenail!’ Draco cried back, and they threw down their towels and dashed into the water, making the geese flap their wings in brief alarm.

The day passed much too quickly for Harry’s taste. It was bright and sunny and warm, and he spent a while just floating on the surface, soaking it up--until Draco accidentally dunked him, and then demanded lessons on how to float like that. Harry tried, but Draco got bored rather quickly and went to retrieve a Quaffle from the broomshed. It floated on the water just enough that they could play with it like a beach ball.

It was nice to get out of the house, away from Lucius’s unusual behaviour and Abraxas’s silent staring. It was also nice to do something physical that didn’t involve Professor Snape’s intense training. Harry’s muscles burned after every session, and he had to drag himself to his bathtub, dripping with sweat. It was exhausting emotionally as well as physically, as Professor Snape was not in the habit of doling out encouragement, as Lucius and Narcissa were. He had at least ceased to insult him and Draco since Lucius joined the lessons--although Lucius himself was offered no such exemption.

‘You’re only in your thirties, for Merlin’s sake, you ought to be able to haul even _your_ bloated Malfoy arse faster than that,’ Professor Snape had sneered more than once when Draco and Harry once again lapped Lucius. Or, after practising a set of moves, he would snap, ‘Since you pure-bloods are supposed to be so much more _special_ and _perfect_ than the rest of us, perhaps you’d like to _make an attempt_ to _pay attention_?! Or do the pure-bloods’ _many gifts_ not include a working set of ears? Hmm? Or is it that you’re just _too good_ to take orders from a mere half-blood?’

Harry and Draco had gasped more than once when Professor Snape’s comments had grown more personal and profane, but no matter how offensive the insult, Lucius did not respond in kind, nor with hexes, as the boys had feared. He would brace himself on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, staring up at Snape through his sweat-soaked hair, and then pick himself up and try harder. This was a source of constant puzzlement to Harry and Draco, who, on the rare occasions when Professor Snape got angry enough to forget himself and hurl an insult at them, would respond with even weaker attempts, depressed that they were so horrible at it that he felt the need to call them names. This, more than anything, seemed to restrain his tongue against the two of them--most of the time.

In truth, Draco was the one who routinely pleased Professor Snape the most, although the sour man tried his best not to show it. Harry was faster, but Draco could run longer, and he could do pushups and perform the manoeuvres the professor tried to teach them almost perfectly on the first try. There were often small corrections, but mostly, Professor Snape had nothing to say to him, which they had learnt was a good sign. Harry, on the other hand, couldn’t see the point of most of the moves, so it made it difficult to know what to do. He and Professor Snape were slowly learning together that Harry would figure it out and catch up to Draco after a physical demonstration. This occasionally resulted in Harry being knocked flat, and Snape would briefly look a little worried that he might have hurt him.

‘I’m all right,’ Harry would say, popping to his feet and grinning. ‘So I’m supposed to overbalance the other fellow?’

Most of the moves were less dramatic and more complex, but Harry felt he was getting the hang of them. Professor Snape corrected him less often, anyway, and once, when he’d partnered Harry with Lucius and Draco with himself, Harry had managed to knock Lucius down and pin him with his arms behind his back. Granted, he had cheated a little that time, rather than doing what they were supposed to be practising (walking forward while punching at the other person’s torso), but Lucius had blocked him easily when he tried to do that, and a solid kick to the shins had worked very well, too. All the other moves he’d used had been Snape-approved, so he counted it as a legitimate victory anyway.

‘Good job,’ Lucius had said tightly, muffled by having his face pressed into the floor.

Professor Snape saw when he was finished with Draco and spent the next ten minutes lying on the floor laughing. Lucius had not shared his amusement, even after Harry sheepishly let him up.

Swimming was much, much more enjoyable, though, and it was with great reluctance that they came out of the water for a spot of lunch.

‘Why don’t we go play with Butch for a while?’ Draco said after they’d eaten. ‘I’m tired of swimming.’

Harry glanced around nervously. ‘Won’t your grandfather get angry? Butch is his dog….’

Draco shrugged. ‘He won’t care. He never goes hunting anymore, ever since you came. And if he does care, we’ll just put Butch back.’

He didn’t share Draco’s confidence, but when Narcissa acquiesced to the plan and retreated to her lounger with her book and a glass of lemon squash, he didn’t have much choice but to follow when Draco marched across the lawn to the kennels.

‘Well, come on, Butch!’ Draco said, trying to sound stern through his giggles. ‘Let’s go play!’

Harry couldn’t resist giggling, either, as the moment he was free, the big dog began circling them and snuffling and drooling all over them, wagging his tail as hard as he could and depositing joyful licks everywhere he could reach. The other dogs howled their jealousy and dismay as the boys and dog trotted away. Draco found a stick in a bush and they took turns throwing it for Butch until he finally seemed to understand that bringing it back just meant they would throw it again. He returned to Harry without it, smiling his innocent doggy smile.

Draco grinned. ‘I guess that game’s over. What next, Harry?’

This was an unusual request--Draco generally directed their days, when the adults had bowed out--but Harry had an answer ready.

‘Let’s pretend we’re knights!’ he said, combing through the bushes for another stick.

Draco’s face lit up. ‘Oh, yes! I’ll be the Black Knight!’

He ran off to fetch the stick Butch had failed to return, and by the time he dashed back, Harry had his own.

‘Ha _HA_! En garde!’ Harry cried.

Narcissa looked up at the first dull _clack_ of wood on wood, sitting up and shielding her eyes from the sun.

‘What on earth are you boys doing with those sticks?!’ she called.

Draco smacked at Harry’s stick. ‘We’re knights of the realm, only I’ve gone evil, and Sir Harry is trying to drive me away from the king’s prized hound! I want to steal him and chop him up for potions ingredients!’

The ‘king’s prized hound’ barked and ran around Draco, blissfully unaware that he was supposed to be hiding behind Harry for protection.

Narcissa did not seem to be pleased by this explanation. ‘Well, _be careful_!’ she shouted. ‘If you poke each other’s eyes out, I--’

‘We won’t! Promise!’ Harry called back, and they went back at it with a vengeance.

The joyful day came to an end at supper, though. After Narcissa herded them back inside and made them go clean up, they came down to the dining room together to find Abraxas and Lucius waiting, looking somber. Narcissa’s eyes were red, and she fussed over both of them even more than usual as soon as they stepped into the room.

‘What’s going on?’ Draco asked cautiously, after they were seated and even Abraxas continued to look almost sad. ‘Mother?’

Narcissa shook her head and covered her mouth, turning to her food.

‘We just received word that Mrs Nott passed on this morning,’ Lucius said finally, his voice quiet and solemn.

Draco’s brow wrinkled, his lips parting. It seemed to Harry that his cousin didn’t know quite how to react to the reality of his friend’s parent being dead.

‘Poor Theodore,’ Harry murmured, thinking of the boy he’d never met.

Lucius looked at him directly for the first time in weeks, his blue-grey eyes soft and shining. He smiled, a little, and squeezed Harry’s knee under the table, like he used to.

Abraxas did not address Harry, as he might have under other circumstances. He didn’t even glare at him.

‘The funeral is in three days. We will, naturally, attend as a family. Black formal attire is required,’ he said stiffly, but Harry thought he seemed gentler than usual.

‘And…me?’ he dared to say, wincing a little when Abraxas darted his head around to pin him with his icy stare.

‘ _You_?’ he parroted, sardonically mimicking Harry’s tone.

Harry shrank from the hard gaze.

Lucius’s hand tightened on his knee briefly. ‘Harry is part of the family,’ he said sharply, glaring at his father. ‘He will be attending as such.’

Abraxas’s eyes narrowed, but after another moment in which Lucius did not back down, he turned away.

‘You will, of course, make certain that he knows how to act appropriately,’ he said disdainfully. ‘I will not be embarrassed by the gauche behaviours of a Mudblood urchin.’

‘ _Don’t call him that!_ ’ Lucius snapped.

Harry and Draco exchanged fearful glances and sank down a little in their chairs as the three adults faced off--for Narcissa, too, was glaring at Abraxas more ferociously than Harry had ever seen, and he realised with a start that it was not a butter knife but her wand in her trembling hand.

Abraxas noted it, too, and he merely smiled at her. ‘Very well. Your _half-blood_ urchin, if you insist on the term.’

‘ _Our cousin_ ,’ Lucius ground out.

The smile soured--he sneered at Lucius. ‘I will never acknowledge him as such. He is _tainted_.’

Lucius’s jaw twitched several times and his face was growing steadily redder. Harry started to worry for the windows again, but when he spoke, Lucius’s voice was tightly controlled.

‘He will know the proper behaviours. Come, children--we are going to have dinner in my study.’

Abraxas blinked, surprised, but neither he nor anyone else got the chance to react, as Lucius grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him out of the chair, and grabbed Draco’s hand as soon as he came around the table. Narcissa brought up the rear, slamming the door behind her. They didn’t slow the pace until they were safely inside his study, and only then did Lucius release their hands. Harry rubbed it to restore the circulation, grimacing at Draco when he saw him shaking his hand out in an attempt to do the same.

They both forgot about their hands a moment later--Narcissa laid her hands on their shoulders, and they realised that Lucius was sitting in his chair with his face in his hands, visibly shaking even from across the room. Harry instinctively backed up until he was pressed against Narcissa and grabbed Draco’s hand, fearing another outburst of glass-cracking magic from his powerful cousin.

There was no magical outburst, but after a moment, Lucius let out a soft sound that might have been a sob and spoke, seemingly to himself.

‘ _What’s happening to me?_ ’

His voice was bewildered and lost, almost childish. It didn’t sound like him at all. Frightened, Draco and Harry clutched at each other more tightly and looked to Narcissa.

She squeezed their shoulders and looked at Lucius with a furrowed brow, but her voice was calm.

‘Lucius, I’m going to take the boys upstairs to eat.’

Lucius raised reddened eyes to look at them. He flinched and looked away when his gaze met Harry’s. He didn’t answer.

Narcissa’s frown deepened and she steered them out of the room without another word.

Only within the confines of the playroom did the boys feel brave enough to speak.

‘I’ve never seen Father yell at Grandfather,’ Draco whispered. ‘ _Ever_.’

Narcissa laughed a little nervously, smoothing her robes in a jerky, agitated gesture. ‘I myself have never drawn my wand on him.’

It was true--while Lucius and Abraxas often disagreed, Lucius generally confined his side to snide remarks and sarcasm. Today, he had snapped and snarled at his father, standing his ground and demanding his way, only retreating when the only other option was to escalate the disagreement. Narcissa disagreed with Abraxas even more often than Lucius did, but Harry had noted that she confined herself to frowning or a muttered comment when Lucius wasn’t on her side. When he was, she grew bolder and made her comments aloud, but she still tended to follow Lucius’s lead.

There had very nearly been a real wizard’s duel in the dining room, Harry realised, and all over _him_. He sat heavily in one of the chairs at the playroom table. His eyes were stinging and he had to clutch at the edge of the table to steady himself.

‘I never meant for this to happen,’ he said thickly, sniffling against the pressure in his nose.

Narcissa’s arms came around him, making him jump a little with surprise before he wrapped his arms around her neck in turn, gladly burrowing into the embrace. A sob got out without his permission.

‘Harry, this family was in trouble long before you ever arrived,’ she murmured, stroking the back of his head. ‘It was a glass table bearing the weight of an anvil--there were already cracks from the pressure, widening over time. Your arrival may have speeded the process, but I assure you, none of it is your fault. Lucius and Abraxas have never really got along, and I hated him from the first day I met him. I’ve never been sure of how Lucius’s mother could stand him long enough to bear him a son.’

‘But what is wrong with Father?’ Draco piped up in a wavery voice. ‘He’s acting so strange lately. Is he going mad?’

Harry pulled back to see her face, and Narcissa forced a smile. They could both see how fake it was and were not reassured, as they normally would have been.

‘Your father is not going mad, boys,’ she said soothingly, and gently tugged Draco into the hug with them. ‘He is struggling with some things, but he is not going mad.’

‘Why does struggling with something mean he’s throwing out all of our stuff?’ Draco persisted. ‘He keeps shipping out boxes, and the library’s half empty. Grandfather keeps taking stuff to his wing so Father won’t throw it out.’

‘He isn’t throwing out everything. Just the things that the Ministry wouldn’t approve of, so they’ll let Harry stay here.’

That explanation calmed Draco, but Harry was still troubled. Something was truly wrong with Lucius, and he couldn’t shake the conviction that it had to do with him. What had he done to upset Lucius so much that he would yell at his own father and almost cry in front of them?

‘Why did Grandfather call Harry a Mudblood?’ Draco asked, disrupting his thoughts. ‘Harry’s father was a wizard, and his mother was way better than other Muggle-borns--she wasn’t a stupid idiot Muggle like Harry’s aunt, so why would he use that name?’

Harry understood then that Mudblood was another name for Muggle-borns, and apparently not a very kind one.

Narcissa’s frown and next words confirmed it. ‘Because your grandfather does not like Harry, and he isn’t a good man. I don’t want to hear either of you ever using that word, do you understand? Even if you don’t like someone, that doesn’t make it right to go around calling them vile names. It’s impolite and needlessly cruel.’

They both nodded in unspoken promise not to, Draco a little wide-eyed.

‘Now, let’s settle down and have our dinner,’ she said gently, smoothing their hair and pressing kisses to their foreheads. ‘And afterward we’ll take a look at your wardrobes and decide what you’re going to wear to the funeral.’

Soberly, they obeyed, their plates appearing before them as soon as they were seated. Harry had little appetite, but he forced himself to eat anyway, his thoughts on his troubled cousin downstairs, and the guilt weighing heavily on his own heart.

She herded them toward their beds after they’d eaten, but Draco appeared in Harry’s bedroom door while she was tucking him in, nearly drowning in a heavy velvet dressing gown and clutching a paperback book.

Narcissa sighed. ‘Draco, where did you get your father’s dressing gown? Did he tell you you could wear it?’

Draco shook his head. ‘Father wasn’t in his room,’ he said quietly, so glum and downcast that Harry couldn’t be angry that it was one of his mum’s books he was holding. ‘The house elves had laid out his dressing gown and pyjamas, but he wasn’t there.’

‘And what were you doing in your father’s room?’ Narcissa asked pointedly, but she picked him up (with a grunt of effort at his weight) and set him on the bed next to Harry anyway.

‘I wanted to say goodnight.’

His voice was very small. Harry put a hand on his arm in sympathy.

She sighed. ‘I will check on your father before I retire for the evening, all right? But only if you both promise to go to sleep.’

They nodded in unison, and Draco held out the book.

‘Will you read a chapter to us first?’

She hesitated to accept it. ‘Draco, it’s…it’s a _Muggle_ book.’

‘Well, if we’re going to see Muggles, I want to know more about what they’re like,’ Draco said reasonably, sounding more like himself. ‘I know this one isn’t about Muggles, but it was written by one, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry, softly. ‘It belonged to my mum.’

Draco nodded once, as though that settled the matter, and after shooting the book a look that clearly communicated her disgust, she finally accepted it and ran her hands over it. Their expectant gazes seemed to melt her resistance, and with another soft sigh, she began to read.

‘ _Chapter One--The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless colour of seafoam, but rather the colour of snow falling on a moonlit night…._ ’

Harry waited for Draco to interrupt, with questions or corrections (unicorns didn’t talk, there was no record of any of them killing dragons with their horns or otherwise), or to fall asleep as he always did when Narcissa read to them (no matter how short the story), but he listened intently, his pale face scrunched with concentration. At the end, he asked for another chapter, but when Narcissa said no, he just nodded and snuggled down into Lucius’s dressing gown, closer to Harry.

‘Goodnight, Mother,’ he said quietly. ‘Love you.’

Harry and Narcissa exchanged a glance, but neither of them had an answer.

‘Goodnight, Draco, Harry,’ Narcissa said, rather than question him or try to force him out of Harry’s bed and to his own. ‘I love you both.’

She kissed them goodnight and left. Harry hugged Draco, as much for his own comfort as Draco’s, receiving a clumsy pat on the head in return.

‘Night, Harry. You’re the best,’ he said, muffled by Harry’s shoulder, and promptly fell asleep.

.

\----------------------

.

Lucius couldn’t bring himself to eat his dinner when it arrived. The house elves lit his fireplace, as well, but he ignored it, drawing his chair over to the window. Clouds were drawing in, making the evening dimmer than it should have been after such a beautiful day. The peafowl scuttled past at one point, screaming angrily about the impending rain as they headed for their shelter in the old mews. They lived at one end and the family’s owl at the other, as they had not liked the shed built for them, and the owl seemed not to enjoy being in the cupola owlrey above the greenhouse that the Malfoy family’s owls had traditionally occupied.

He was still staring out the window long after it became too dark to see, and all he saw was his own reflection, flickering and ghostly, with half of his face illuminated by the firelight. Of the other side, only the occasional gleam of his eye could be seen.

The door quietly opened without a knock, and just as quietly closed again. He heard the clack of heels and did not look up. He heard Narcissa blow out a breath when she spotted the untouched plate on his desk. A long moment of silence passed as he did not explain and she did not ask.

There was an intake of breath, then an exhale, as she prepared to speak and then changed her mind.

Another long moment, like thread stretching between them.

‘Lucius, talk to me,’ she said at last, soft with only the faintest edge of pleading. ‘What’s wrong?’

He blinked at his reflection, watched himself disappear and reappear again. The firelight turned his blond hair and pale face red, giving him a demonic look.

‘Lucius.’

She stepped closer, lightly skimming her fingers across his shoulder.

He jerked away from her touch, looked up at her fiercely.

‘I’m going mad,’ he said curtly.

Narcissa pressed her lips together, studying his face grimly. ‘You’re not going mad, Lucius.’

‘I am,’ he insisted. ‘I nearly challenged my own father to a duel.’ He gasped in a harsh breath. ‘Family first, everything else second. _Always_. Even Mother…even she insisted it must be so. The first duty is to family. I would have killed him. The word “Mudblood” has never bothered me before, and I _do_ believe half-bloods to be tainted. If he had said it of Severus, I would not have cared.’

It was true. Lucius had thought of Severus, and Lupin, and all the other half-bloods that way. Their parents or grandparents were Mudbloods, and they were tainted by the association. As far back as great-grandparents was growing more acceptable, but still not what he would consider ‘pure.’

Harry was a half-blood, too, with a Muggle-born mother--but when Abraxas had called Harry _tainted_ , and named his mother Lily _Mudblood_ …. ‘Duty’ meant nothing and the rage had seeped into his vision until everything was crimson, like blood, and he had wanted….

He dropped his head into his hands, unable to face his gentle wife.

‘Severus isn’t Harry,’ she said carefully. ‘And you were not alone. At least you had not yet drawn your wand.’

Lucius snorted and didn’t look up. Narcissa had drawn her wand, but it was most likely an empty gesture. Not to say that she wasn’t willing or able to duel Abraxas--Lucius believed her the equal of any wizard he knew, and the better of most--but she would never have allowed it to go that far with the children in the room. _He_ , on the other hand…. If he had not forced himself to take his family and exit when he had, he would not have been restrained by that or anything else.

‘Lucius--there is no shame in caring for Harry,’ she tried again, crouching down in front of him and laying a slim hand on his knee. ‘He is your cousin--he is family, too. You haven’t done anything your mother would have disapproved of.’

He smiled bitterly. ‘I invited a half-blood into my home, into my h--’ His throat closed on the admission. ‘She hated the half-bloods and Muggle-borns just as much as my father. It was the one subject on which they agreed. They taught their son well, did they not?’

Narcissa was quiet for a moment, but her hand didn’t leave his knee.

‘I no longer care about those things,’ she confessed, looking at her hand on his knee rather than meet his eye.

Lucius stared in shock. The Blacks did not just teach blood purity, as his parents had--they _indoctrinated_ their children. It was practically a religion for them--worshipping the pure-blood strains and scourging the earth of the Muggles. For the Malfoys, it was a status symbol; for the Blacks, a way of life. When he had joined the Death Eaters, Narcissa’s response had been a resounding ‘ _It’s about time_ ’--her sister Bellatrix had already been a member for some time.

She smiled faintly, apparently guessing his thoughts with some accuracy. ‘Harry is just as loving and intelligent as Draco. Severus is our staunchest friend. Both of them have Muggle blood, and I can find no weakness in their character to trace to it. And where are the pure-bloods? Where are _those_ friends when we need them? We cannot trust them--not with Harry’s life. Your own father wouldn’t give you half the consideration and guilt you’re offering over the thought of killing _you_.’

This was undoubtedly true. If Abraxas had any other heirs, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Lucius as a child, after his mother wasn’t around to protect him. He had made his loathing of Lucius’s supposed failings clear--most especially his ‘weakness.’ There was no doubt that he thought Lucius soft-hearted and weak because he had chosen to take Harry in as well, failing to see the political ramifications of a move against the Boy Who Lived.

None of it changed the fact that his first duty was to his pure-blood family line, and he had nearly put a half-blood boy before that sacred responsibility. Nothing she could say would make him less a traitor for his feelings. He was ashamed of himself as the worst of blood traitors.

‘Because of your father, I have had to hide it for a long time, but…. Do you know…when I stopped caring about a wizard’s blood?’ she asked tentatively. ‘Occlumency lessons with Severus. He was the only half-blood in a class of less than a dozen, so naturally, we ended up paired together. He was a Slytherin alum, so I was polite, as we all were to those inferiors who managed to end up in our House. Fraternity, and all that. In our early practise sessions, I saw in his mind….’ She paused to still her lip, which was quivering. ‘His father abused he and his mother terribly. That was when I understood the horror that is the Muggles. They are truly a vile breed--Severus’s father, Harry’s relatives, they all deserve to die like dogs in the street,’ she spat viciously.

Lucius watched her curiously. She had never shared anything about the Occlumency lessons they had taken together.

‘But Harry and Severus, and my niece and brother-in-law, all those poor Muggle-borns….’ She shook her head, a heartbroken expression making her appear ten years older. ‘They need our help to be rescued from those horrible Muggles. I wouldn’t send a _Squib_ into their violent, hateful arms. It’s no wonder the half-bloods and Muggle-borns have always seemed so crass and wild when they come to us, coming from the care of Muggles. Harry is proof that they can be tamed, with some care from their own kind.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Why the Muggle-borns?’

Narcissa snorted. ‘They are wizards, too, you know. Now that I’ve spent some time with him, I can see why Andromeda…Ted is a good man. And I read recently that there is a theory--not just amongst blood traitors, mind you, but credible wizards as well--that all Muggle-borns are the distant descendants of Squibs who were forced into the Muggle world. If it’s true--if it’s true, they’re our long-lost kin, whom we banished ourselves! It’s only right we should bring them back into the fold.’

He eyed her coldly. ‘ _You_ sound like a blood traitor.’

Accusing her removed some of the suspicion from himself, but he did not feel eased at all.

She snatched her hand from his knee and straightened, returning his cold look. ‘Perhaps I am,’ she snapped. ‘If you divorce me, you’ll lose all claim to Harry.’

Lucius’s blood turned to ice. ‘I never said I wanted to divorce you.’ He fumbled for words. ‘It’s just…I’m so…confused.’ He looked at her helplessly. ‘You cannot help me.’

She softened only a little, nodding almost to herself. ‘So it would seem.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’ll have it sorted by Harry’s birthday? Both of us must do our best to hide our distaste for the Muggles while we’re at the “zoo.”’

‘I wasn’t planning to go,’ Lucius admitted, clenching his fingers on the armrests until the circulation was cut off. ‘I thought you could take them alone. Severus has told you much of the Muggle world, and….’

The excuses he’d told himself petered out, and he looked at the floor.

Narcissa’s voice was stiff. ‘Harry and Draco will be very disappointed.’ Another pause. ‘If Harry is so confusing to you and you have come to dislike him so much, why are you still preparing for the guardianship investigation?’

‘I don’t dislike him!’ he protested sharply. ‘On the contrary, I….’ He swallowed. ‘That is the problem. How can I care for him, a half-blood, so strongly that I would attack my own father? I must…I must control my emotions. I’ve let it go too far. I was never supposed to become so attached. He’s only a half-blood.’

When he met her gaze, Narcissa was watching him with pity.

‘You’re right. I cannot help you.’ She turned to go, only pausing once she reached the door. ‘Good luck.’

The door shut softly behind her. Lucius’s shoulders slumped, and he dropped his face into his hands, trying to rub away the terrible, paralysing heaviness.


	17. At the Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius gets a reading on the mood of his fellow Death Eaters; Harry and Draco get themselves deep into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more character stuff, mostly, but you guys don't seem to mind that. :) Next time will be a bit more plot-oriented.
> 
> I want to thank you all again for your _amazing_ feedback. It's more lovely than I can tell you to hear how much you're all enjoying this story, and I can't thank you enough for sharing your thoughts with me. You're all wonderful; I don't think I deserve how wonderful you are. I hope you continue to enjoy the story! :)

Things were very tense around the house in the days before the funeral. Draco’s grandfather kept to his wing of the house, and his father kept to his rooms, and his mother was very quiet at mealtimes. The rest of the time, she was teaching Harry how to behave at the funeral and the reception afterward. Draco helped as best he could, although it was pretty boring, and he really would have rather gone off and played. The tension and upset made him feel more than a little lonely, so he stayed anyway.

Harry seemed quiet and sad, too, and he felt it was his duty to cheer him up. They played with Harry’s soldiers and played Exploding Snap (they couldn’t play anything outside, as it had been raining since the night they found out) and read _The Last Unicorn_ with Narcissa at night, but none of it seemed to cheer him up.

Honestly, Draco was terribly, horribly confused. He had just resigned himself to being second best (with the hope that being good would improve his standing eventually), only for his father to turn around and start treating Harry so distantly, as though he hated him and loved Draco again. This would have been perfectly fine by Draco, if he hadn’t seen how hurt Harry was. It had occurred to him that it wasn’t Harry’s fault Draco’s parents preferred him, but Draco’s--however, if they were _going_ to prefer Harry, he wished they’d do so and stick with it. It hurt him to see Harry hurt, as he loved Harry as fiercely as a best friend and cousin should, and so he’d taken it upon himself to keep Lucius away from him as best he could. After all, it was _his_ wishy-washy behaviour hurting Harry--his mother was as loving to both of them as always. It didn’t appear to be working, but Draco kept doing his best anyway. He didn’t know what else to do to show his support.

Now, it was the night before the funeral. Draco hadn’t thought much about that, since he found out, but now that he had, he found that he really didn’t _want_ to think about it. Harry was still sad, so he set himself to the task of continuing to try to cheer him up. His mother had excused herself until later, when she would come back to tuck them in and read them chapter four of _The Last Unicorn_.

‘Harry?’ Draco said, rolling onto his stomach and looking down at Harry, who was lying on the floor beside Draco’s bed, diligently reading a book about how to play games. Draco had stolen it from his father’s collection on Harry’s behalf when he realised that Harry didn’t even know how to play draughts or chess or noughts and crosses! It wasn’t to be borne, and so Draco had taken drastic action. He was sure his father wouldn’t mind, since he already knew how to play all of the games in the book anyway.

‘Hmm?’ Harry grunted.

‘Do you suppose Peter S. Beagle was a wizard?’

Harry looked up with a frown. ‘ _Is_. He’s not dead, that I know of. The copyright in the book’s not that old. And I don’t know. I suppose he could be--why?’

‘Because Mommy Fortuna and Schmendrick--they’re almost like _real_ wizards, you know?’ Draco stroked the bottom of his chin thoughtfully. ‘Some things aren’t true, but a lot of it is very close to what our world is actually like. I’ve never heard of a unicorn talking, though, or a spider crying, but--but I feel like if they could, that’s what it would be like.’

Truthfully, this odd Muggle book was the most interested he’d been in a book since he was little and his mother finally read him ‘The Warlock’s Hairy Heart,’ instead of skipping it as ‘too scary’ for the first time.

Harry propped himself up on one elbow and sighed. ‘Draco, I don’t think it’s meant to be taken quite so literally. It’s more of a fairy tale or a fable or something.’

His nose wrinkled. ‘Don’t you _like_ the story?’

‘Oh, I do, but I don’t think butterflies talk, let alone in rhymes and songs. Not in real life, anyway.’

Draco blew out a breath, kicking his legs. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if they _did_ , though? It would be awfully funny.’

Harry didn’t answer, as he had returned to his book.

Draco scrunched his nose in disgust and rolled onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head. He wanted Harry to learn how to play the games, as it would give them something fun to do on rainy days or cold days (besides all of the toys, of course), but he wished it wouldn’t take so _long_. He thought about unicorns, instead--beautiful, nimble-footed unicorns, thinking their thoughts in the deepest forests of the world, and tried to imagine what it was like to be immortal, to not feel Time passing him by.

‘Draco?’

He jerked awake. Harry was still on the floor with the book, but now he was propped up on both elbows and staring into space.

‘Hmm? What?’

‘D’you reckon it….’ He trailed off, biting his lip, and looked up with shining green eyes. ‘D’you think it’ll be all right? Between me and Lucius, I mean. He won’t hate me forever, will he?’

Draco rolled off the bed, plopping beside Harry and clumsily throwing an arm across his shoulders. ‘Of course not. And he doesn’t hate you. It’s like Mother said--he’s just upset about something, that’s all. They all are.’

Harry nodded seriously, his brows knit. ‘Yes--about me.’ He closed the book. ‘Do you suppose he’ll send me back to the Dursleys after all? I know he promised he wouldn’t, but that was _before_ , and--’

‘Now you listen to me, Harry James Potter,’ Draco said sharply, puffing up a bit with rage. ‘You’re _not_ going back to those stupid fat Muggles ever, _ever_ again. Mother would never allow it. Besides, if Father promised, then--then he meant it. He’s a Malfoy, and Malfoys keep their word. _Always_.’

Harry stared at him for a moment, seemingly surprised by his vehemence, and then cracked a crooked smile. ‘There was no need to middle name me. It’s not fair, I can’t get you back for it--I don’t know _your_ middle name.’

Draco’s cheeks heated. ‘Sosigenes,’ he mumbled.

His smile grew into a grin, his eyes brightening with glee. ‘ _Sosigenes_?! Draco _Sosigenes_ Malfoy?!’ he crowed, delighted.

Then he rolled away from Draco, giggling madly and holding his sides.

‘If you ever call me that in front of someone outside the family, forget wands, I’ll _thrash_ you,’ Draco said menacingly.

Harry just laughed, tears leaking out of his scrunched eyes and his face rapidly reddening.

He was still laughing a couple of minutes later, when Narcissa arrived, and Draco was stroking his chin and scowling at him, darkly plotting his revenge. So far he’d come up with gluing Harry’s toilet seat shut or bribing the house elves to put salt in his tea instead of sugar--the problem with that being that he and Harry rarely drank tea when they didn’t have to, and Harry didn’t add anything to his pumpkin juice or milk. _Perhaps I can convince them to replace his pumpkin juice with something really nasty, like broccoli juice, just with orange colouring in it,_ he mused. _Wait, is there such a thing as broccoli juice?_

‘What is going on here?’ Narcissa asked, clearly amused despite her weariness.

Harry hiccupped when he tried to control his giggles. With a sigh, Draco took over the duty of explaining.

‘I called Harry by his full name, and he said that wasn’t fair, because he didn’t know mine, so I told him, and now he won’t quit giggling about So--my middle name,’ he said petulantly, his lower lip poking out.

To their surprise, Narcissa’s amusement vanished. ‘I see,’ she said softly.

They exchanged a glance, Harry’s laughter completely squelched by her reaction. Draco shrugged at the question in Harry’s face.

Narcissa sat on the edge of Draco’s bed and patted her knee. Obediently, they climbed to their feet and came to her side. She took their hands in hers, her expression pained as she looked at their (admittedly dirty) hands. But she didn’t mention the fact that they had clearly not washed before _or_ after supper.

‘Do you know why we chose your middle name, Draco?’ she asked quietly, still looking at their fingers in her palms.

‘No,’ he said, and refrained from adding the thought that he’d always considered it a stupid name and assumed they’d used it purely to torture him.

Narcissa sighed. ‘Another time, perhaps. I’m tired.’ She smiled, a little thinly. ‘Let’s get ready for bed, shall we? We have another chapter to read yet--and you both need to wash your hands, they’re filthy!’

Draco grinned, relieved that the serious moment was over, and they scampered off to their closets to ready for bed.

She read them chapter four, declined to read another, and said goodnight with the reminder that they needed to be ready on time in the morning. She didn’t say anything about them needing to sleep in their own beds this time, and Draco happily helped himself to more than his share of Harry’s duvet. Harry just rolled his eyes.

Sleep did not come easily, as the thoughts Draco had been diligently avoiding came crowding back into his mind with nothing to distract him but the ticking of Harry’s clock and Harry’s soft breathing beside him. He tried not to squirm, mindful that his cousin was trying to sleep, but the thoughts wouldn’t leave him be.

‘Harry?’

Harry sighed.

‘I don’t want you to go back to the Muggles, either,’ Draco confessed in a whisper. He had tried to convince himself otherwise, while he was angry with Harry, but it hadn’t taken. ‘I’m not lonely anymore with you here, not really. Do you know what I mean?’

Harry sighed again, but when he rolled over, he patted Draco’s arm. ‘Yeah,’ he said around a yawn. ‘Try to get some sleep, yeah?’

‘Mm-hmm.’

Harry resumed his rhythmic breathing.

‘Harry?’

Another sigh. ‘What?’

‘I don’t want to go to the funeral tomorrow.’

That made Harry sit up and touch the spelled candle by his bedside, which automatically flickered to life. His hair was sticking up every which way, his eyes squinting and fuzzy with sleep.

‘Why don’t you want to go to the funeral?’ he asked hoarsely, rubbing one eye. ‘Theodore’s your friend, i’n’t he? Don’t you want to let him know you’re sorry for him and you’re there for him?’

Draco shrugged, idly flipping the end of the duvet on and off of his neck. ‘I guess we’re friends, sort of. Blaise is his best friend, and they generally stick together and do everything together. Mother and Father like the Notts and the Zabinis better than any of my other friends’ parents, so a lot of the time, they’d come over, and Blaise and Theodore would go off and play together. They wouldn’t let me join in, said three’s a crowd, so I’d have to play by myself, like always.’

Harry frowned at this information. ‘Didn’t you tell your parents? I mean, they were at _your_ house, playing with _your_ toys--it wasn’t right that they excluded you. Narcissa says it’s a breach of etiquette to ignore your host.’

He shrugged again, uncomfortable. ‘Well, we were pretty little when it happened. They haven’t been over outside of big dinner parties, like at my birthday, in about a year. Mother says Father doesn’t want to be friends with any of his old friends anymore, although she wouldn’t tell me why. And Mrs Nott got sick, so Theodore wasn’t coming over as much anymore anyway, so when it’s just Blaise, he doesn’t snub me. He doesn’t want to play by himself, either.’ He frowned a little. ‘Actually, I was really sick for a couple of years. When I first met them, I couldn’t get out of bed at all, so Mother set up a little tabletop on the bed and said we could put a puzzle together, but they didn’t want to, so after she left, they went off to the playroom. I put it together by myself.’

He squirmed at the memory. Many of his early memories took place in his bed, and a few of the earliest, dimmest ones took place in a bed that was completely unfamiliar, with white bedding and a white little room that wasn’t anything like home and with smells that stung his nostrils. He thought it might have been a hospital. His mother was always crying in those dim snippets of memories, even when she smiled at him, and she wouldn’t let go of his hand.

Harry’s eyes had cleared, and they were wide now. ‘You couldn’t get out of bed? Why couldn’t you get out of bed? Lucius said you were sick once, when you were little, but he didn’t say it was _that_ bad. That must have driven you mental!’

‘Oh, completely barking,’ Draco agreed. ‘I wanted to get up and run around and play, but there was a nurse lady who stopped by a lot, and she said I couldn’t, and so Mother and Father wouldn’t let me, even when I threw a tantrum. Although, they weren’t much,’ he admitted. ‘I could only cry, for some reason, I couldn’t scream or yell. And even though I _wanted_ to get up, it does seem like it was awfully hard, so I didn’t manage to escape.’

A memory resurfaced and he smiled. ‘Actually, once when I cried because I wanted to get up, Mother wasn’t around, so Father wrapped me up in about three blankets and a warm hat and socks and his own cloak, and he carried me to the window so I could look out for a while. I must have been heavy, but he held me up for a long, long time. Mother was angry at first, when she found out, but then the nurse lady said it must have helped, because I was getting stronger, and so she took me to the window whenever I wanted, after that. I had a little wheelchair, until I was allowed to get up and walk, since Mother wasn’t strong enough to carry me everywhere. I was very, very little, so I don’t remember how I got so ill, but it seemed like ages before I got better. When I _was_ better, though, then Father bought me my first broom for my birthday,’ he added proudly.

Harry had listened quite solemnly, and he nodded thoughtfully to himself when Draco had finished, but when he spoke, it was to get back to their original subject.

‘Well, all right--I can understand not wanting to be Theodore’s friend, after he and Blaise abandoned you like that, but that doesn’t explain why you don’t want to go to the funeral. Unless you really hate Theodore,’ he added, as though the thought had just occurred.

‘Oh, no, I don’t hate him. He’s all right, too, when you can pry him and Blaise apart,’ Draco said. ‘It’s just…I don’t like people being dead.’

Harry stared at him. ‘Most people are against it,’ he agreed after a moment. ‘Death is not very popular. But we still have to go.’

Draco squirmed. ‘I know, but…. Mrs Nott was always really nice to me, you know? I didn’t want her to die. But I didn’t know her well enough to, you know, _cry_ or anything, I just feel…sort of sad. I’ll miss her biscuits. She always brought me a tin, when they visited. But it’s not like I knew anything else about her. She was just Theodore’s mother. And I…. Being around all those people who _did_ know her and who _are_ really upset about her being gone…like Theodore…it’s just…. I feel like I shouldn’t be there, you know? I’d sort of feel like an imposter or something.’

Harry sat chewing his lip for a long, long time, staring into space with his brow furrowed. Draco resisted the urge to poke him.

‘Well,’ he said at long last, very slowly, ‘I don’t think it means you’re an imposter. An imposter would be someone who went to the funeral and didn’t care that she was gone at all, or was _happy_ that she died. At least you’re a _little_ sad about it--you _are_ going to miss her, even if it’s only for her biscuits. You’re still one of the people who cared about her, even if it was in a small way, and I think she’d be happy to know you cared enough to come and say goodbye to her. Plus, I don’t think anyone expects you to be as upset as Theodore would be--she was your friend’s mum, not _your_ mum.’

Draco drew the duvet up to his nose. ‘That’s the other thing that scares me,’ he mumbled into the fabric.

Harry frowned at him. ‘You mean besides people being dead?’

‘Yeah.’ He couldn’t quite look at Harry. ‘What if _my_ mother gets sick?’ He swallowed thickly. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to Mother--but look at Theodore’s mother, and _your_ mother. If your mothers can die, then _anyone’s_ mothers can die, and I don’t want Mother to die!’

He sniffled and wiped his face on the duvet.

Harry touched the candle, plunging them into darkness, and a moment later, he was snuggled back up to Draco, hugging him and patting his shoulder.

‘Not going to the funeral won’t make a difference one way or the other,’ Harry said reasonably. ‘Narcissa isn’t going to get sick and die just because you go to this funeral. Nor will it bring Mrs Nott back. That’s not how it works.’

His chin quivered, and he was glad it was dark. ‘I wish nobody had to die,’ he said, quietly to hide the wobble in his voice. ‘I wish everyone could live forever.’

‘Me, too, Draco,’ Harry said heavily. ‘But let’s go to sleep now.’

He sighed and clung to Harry. ‘Okay.’

.

\---------------

.

The next morning, Harry and Draco got dressed in the black formal robes the house elves had laid out for them, and Harry did his best to smooth his hair down with the tonic Narcissa had given him. It still stuck up, but not as noticeably, so he hoped it would be good enough to please her.

Unusually, he was finished before Draco, and rapped on the adjoining door.

‘Ready?’

Draco opened the door, his lip drawn between his teeth and his pale blue eyes wandering the ceiling in a distracted manner. ‘Yeah, guess,’ he said, muffled by his refusal to stop gnawing on his lip.

Harry shook his head and led the way downstairs.

The adults were already in the dining room--Abraxas, Lucius, Narcissa, and Professor Snape, surprisingly--standing behind their chairs and not looking at each other. Professor Snape was wearing all black, too, but since he always did, he still looked rather shabby beside the Malfoys. Not that it was difficult to look or feel shabby beside _them_ , Harry thought--even in black mourning clothes, Narcissa managed to appear as though she had just emerged from a flower in a fairy tale.

Lucius pulled out his pocketwatch when the two boys stumbled into the room and peered at it pointedly.

Draco reddened. ‘Sorry. My fault.’

Lucius raised a brow at him and tucked the watch away, but he said nothing, and they all seated themselves silently.

Harry mostly poked at his food, and a glance at Draco proved that he wasn’t the only one without an appetite. Narcissa didn’t scold them this time; she and the rest of the adults seemed preoccupied. Now didn’t seem like a good time to ask what Mrs Nott had died of--he spent the rest of breakfast stirring his porridge around and debating with himself whether there ever was a good time for that sort of question.

Finally, Abraxas laid down his fork, tapped the corner of his mouth with his napkin, and stood from the table. This seemed to be their cue, as Lucius, Narcissa and Professor Snape immediately followed suit. Harry and Draco scrambled to copy them, and Harry wondered if adult wizards had some sort of telepathic connection that allowed them to coordinate this kind of thing.

‘We will be taking the Floo over,’ Narcissa murmured in their ears on the way to the entrance hall.

Draco just nodded, but Harry scowled. Lucius had allowed them to use the Floo instead of Apparating to go to Diagon Alley once, because Narcissa had pointed out that Harry needed to know how. Harry had bounced out of the fireplace and landed on his head in the boot of an old wizard who’d popped them off and propped his stockinged feet up on the table while he enjoyed The Leaky Cauldron’s special of the day. Draco had laughed his head off, Lucius had pried Harry’s head out of the boot, Narcissa had used several cleaning charms on him, and Harry had hated the Floo Network with a fiery passion ever since.

As though guessing his thoughts, Narcissa laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. It made him feel a _little_ better.

Fortunately, the chapel didn’t have any boots or spittoons or other objects he could get his head jammed in lying around the foyer, so while he did land rather clumsily and end up with a sore bum, nothing too terrible happened to him this time. Draco emerged with more grace, managing to land on his feet with only a slight stumble. Narcissa followed with all her usual aplomb and immediately set about cleaning them up.

There were clumps of witches and wizards in somber attire murmuring to one another. Most of them had barely glanced up at their arrival, though those who did spotted Abraxas and paled, offering little bows and taking off their hats. Harry didn’t recognise most of the wizards and witches he saw until Lucius led the way into the chapel--Mr and Mrs Zabini and their son Blaise were standing next to the last row of pews, conversing softly with a tall man with a curly head of brown hair and a sad face that reminded Harry somewhat of a bulldog. His large hands rested on the shoulders of a boy who took after him strongly, though he didn’t appear so much like a bulldog--his face was less droopy, but no less sad. His eyes were red and cast toward the floor.

All four of them looked up at Lucius’s approach--he grabbed Draco’s elbow and fairly dragged him in front of Harry, eliciting a soft huff from both Draco and Narcissa. He shoved him in the sad boy’s direction, turning his own attention toward the bulldog-faced man.

‘I am deeply sorry for your loss, Matthew,’ Lucius said softly. ‘Eve was a lovely woman--she will be sorely missed.’

To Harry’s surprise, Mr Nott (for who else could it be?) looked at Lucius with narrowed eyes, his face becoming less sad and more suspicious. He darted a look at Harry when Lucius tilted his head in silent question.

Lucius smiled thinly, fingering the snake head of his cane meaningfully. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said in the silky tone he often used when he was angry. ‘Another time, perhaps. We are here to mourn your wife, after all.’

Mr Nott’s sorrow returned, and he nodded slowly. ‘Yes--she was--’

He cut off with a funny noise and turned his head away. Theodore, who had exchanged a few whispered words with Draco, looked up at him with concern and laid a hand over his father’s.

‘Dad?’ he said quietly.

Mr Nott didn’t answer.

Narcissa gently steered Harry and Draco away, toward a pew near the front.

‘Is Theodore okay?’ Harry whispered once they were seated.

Draco shrugged. ‘I guess. He always looks like someone just killed and ate his family owl.’

Harry frowned, not satisfied with this answer, but he reluctantly let it go, partly because Lucius and Professor Snape had slid into the pew on their other side, and both wizards shot them quelling looks. The effect of the two grown men combined glaring at them--one all black with a dark-as-night gaze, the other light with an icy stare--was more than a little frightening.

‘The ceremony hasn’t even started yet,’ Draco said sourly, but he said it under his breath, so only Harry could hear.

Narcissa, on his other side, elbowed him anyway, and the boys fell silent, exchanging a long-suffering look.

Abraxas had chosen not to sit with the family, it seemed--he was near the back, talking with a small group of old wizards Harry didn’t recognise at all. After craning his neck for a while, waiting for the pews to fill up as the organist began to play, he turned back around and risked Lucius’s wrath by leaning close and poking him in the arm.

Lucius raised a brow at him, his mouth set in a thin line.

Harry pointed at Abraxas and his group of murmuring, glowering wizards as subtly as he could.

Understanding dawned, and Lucius leaned down until his lips almost touched Harry’s ear, whispering softer than he would have believed possible: ‘They are part of a group of the Dark Lord’s followers, as is my father. Stay away from them, and don’t look at them.’

He straightened back up and turned to Professor Snape and murmured something without another glance at Harry, and Harry pressed against Draco for comfort, deliberately staring straight ahead.

The Zabinis sat in the row ahead of them, and to Harry’s surprise, Blaise waved at both of them, struggling to smile in greeting. The Goyles squeezed in behind them--Draco rolled his eyes when their boy, Gregory, if Harry recalled correctly, tapped on his shoulder and waved. Harry felt bad, so he turned around long enough to wave and smile. Gregory’s face brightened and his returning wave was a little too enthusiastic--he accidentally whacked his mother’s purse out of her hand, and the two Goyle wizards subsequently cracked heads in their scramble to get it for her. Gregory didn’t seem to hold it against Harry, though, as his smile when he caught Harry’s eye again appeared to be genuine.

It wasn’t long after that the rest of the pews filled up and a very, very old, stooped wizard with a long, straggling grey beard hobbled up to the lectern. His robes were off-white and dingy, as though he hadn’t washed them in a while, but the entire chapel fell respectfully silent despite his rather ragged appearance. His eyes were darting and rheumy, from what Harry could see, and when he spoke, the words were raspy and slurred. They carried in the silence, though, and Harry did his best to pay attention. Mostly, it seemed to be about the foundations of magic, and something about sanctity and purity, and something else about how sad everyone was that Mrs Nott wasn’t around to contribute to any of it anymore. (He was doing his best--but it was very, very slow and boring.)

What felt like three hours later, Mr Nott got up and said a few choked words about his wife, which made Narcissa get out her handkerchief and dab at her eyes, and even Lucius bowed his head so his hair swept down in front of his face. When he raised his head again, his eyes were red-rimmed. Draco stared at the floor and looked uncomfortable, and he was blinking a lot. Harry supposed he would have had to know her to feel as upset about it, but he did feel very sad for Mr Nott and Theodore.

The latter feeling intensified after the funeral was over. The adults went into a reception room, while the children were ushered outside, to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. Harry watched as the other children smiled and stretched, grateful for the reprieve from acting so stiff and formal, and pleased that the sun was finally out after three days of grey drizzle. Theodore was watching them, too, his mouth pinched into a sour expression. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away when he saw Harry watching him, hunching his shoulders and drifting away from the group.

Draco nudged Harry’s shoulder, his normal smile muted, his voice tight despite his attempt to sound cheerful. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now we can play.’

Most of the others perked up, even some of the older children turning to Draco, waiting for him to take the lead. Harry was very surprised to see a tall boy who looked like he might be fourteen or fifteen leaning toward them, listening while trying to look like he _wasn’t_ listening--he wasn’t very good at it.

‘What shall we play, Draco?’ Pansy asked with a fawning air, grabbing onto his elbow.

Draco scowled, tugging his arm out of her grip. ‘Nothing that you _girls_ would be interested in.’

‘Hey!’ Daphne squawked indignantly, while Pansy pouted.

Draco blinked. ‘What? I said nothing the _girls_ would be interested in, not _you_.’

Daphne seemed to accept this answer, much to Harry’s bewilderment. She either didn’t realise or didn’t mind that Draco had just said she wasn’t a girl.

‘Why don’t we play Pox?’ Gregory piped up impatiently.

The older children rolled their eyes; Draco saw them and straightened his spine, looking down his nose at Gregory.

‘That’s a kids’ game,’ he sniffed.

Harry had to restrain his own eye-roll, because they’d just played Pox last week, and Draco hadn’t seemed to think it was a ‘kids’ game’ then.

‘Why don’t we play Bowtruckles?’

Even the older kids seemed interested--interested enough to stop staring at Harry, anyway--but Harry didn’t like that game (which involved hurling twigs and pebbles at each other, mostly), and he saw Theodore slouching off, toward a creek at the base of the hill. Blaise, despite being Theodore’s best friend, didn’t appear to notice, and continued to argue with a tall girl that he was a better choice for a team leader. Harry frowned at this; if Theodore’s best friend wasn’t going to look after him, then who would?

No one else appeared to notice Theodore’s absence, either, so as soon as he’d assured himself that Draco was too involved with dividing the other children into teams to notice, Harry slipped off and followed him, careful to avoid muddy patches, lest he soil his nice shoes and dress robes.

Theodore was sitting on the bank behind a row of bushes when Harry caught up, apparently unconcerned about his own clothes. He looked up sullenly and then hurriedly looked away, wiping his face on his sleeve when he saw who it was.

‘Potter,’ he said thickly, trying to sneer but just sounding stuffed up. ‘What d’you want, then?’

Harry bit his lip, sticking his hands in his pockets and toeing at the spongy ground. ‘Just wanted to see if you were all right.’

Theodore looked back up at him, an ugly expression twisting his red, puffy face. ‘Yes, I’m bloody spectacular, Potter. My favourite house elf died last week, my mother died this week, and my Crup has a nasty cold that might turn lethal any day now. Just her and my father to go and I’ll have a full house.’

‘So’ve I,’ said Harry softly.

This only made Theodore’s face twist even more, his voice nastier. ‘So you’ve come to tell me how much _luckier_ than you I am, seeing as at least I got to have eight whole years with my mum, huh? Well, _save_ it, Potter--I’ve been hearing that for years at St Mungo’s--ever since she got sick. “Oh, don’t cry, Mr Nott! At least you knew her for a while! Your dad killed _my_ mum when I was just a baby, so I don’t remember her at all!”’ he added in a falsetto, clearly mocking someone specific, and then rolled his eyes disgustedly, turning toward the creek and idly pitching a stone at it. It didn’t skip at all, just fell with a heavy _plop_!

Harry shook his head. ‘I wasn’t going to say that at all--in fact, somehow, I think that makes it worse. That you remember your mum, I mean. You know?’

That drew him up short, and the ugly scowl dropped from his face as he looked at Harry with open surprise.

Encouraged, Harry sat beside him--but not too near--despite the knowledge that he’d probably get in trouble later, when Narcissa saw the mud on his dress robes.

‘I mean, I don’t remember my parents at all,’ he continued hesitantly. ‘I miss them and I’m sad they’re dead, but in a vague sort of way. Sometimes I feel guilty because I’m not _more_ sad that they’re gone, especially now that I’ve got my cousins. It helps when I hear stories about them, because then I miss them more and yet I’m happy, too, because it’s like getting to know them--but it’s not the same as if they’re actually there. Sometimes I think I miss the _idea_ of them more than I actually miss _them_ ,’ he said guiltily, reddening as he admitted aloud what he’d only thought to himself in the dark of the night. ‘But you got to _know_ your mum, and she raised you, so you’ve got memories and a _person_ to miss. So I think it’s probably worse for you.’

Theodore blinked at him for a few minutes more, and then turned back to the creek, swallowing. ‘Yeah,’ he muttered.

They didn’t talk anymore for a long while after that, just sat and watched the creek, occasionally trying to skip a stone on it or tossing a stick in just to watch it be carried away.

The peace couldn’t last forever, though, and it wasn’t long before they heard voices on the other side of the bushes. Harry didn’t recognise any of them.

‘I saw him come this way,’ one of them said in an important tone of voice. ‘He must be over here somewhere.’

Harry glanced at Theodore. ‘Your friends finally noticed you’re gone, sounds like,’ he said softly.

Theodore sneered. ‘No friends of mine. My only friend is Blaise. I told him I wanted to be alone after the funeral.’

Harry did a double take. ‘Oh….’

‘There you are!’

Both boys leapt to their feet, startled by the sudden appearance of three other boys, blocking the bank between the bushes and the creek at one end. The middle boy appeared to be a couple of years older than them, tall and lean and blond--dirty blond, not platinum like the Malfoys. His green eyes gleamed, and Harry didn’t like the slant of his smile. The boy to his right was older, too, but he was squat and dark, with an energetic air about him that reminded Harry a little of Draco. He was fidgeting with a stick, but he showed no signs of wanting to toss it in the creek. It wasn’t polished like a wand, though, so it wasn’t too worrying.

The third boy was Crabbe. Harry glared at him, but received a piggy smirk in return.

The trio sauntered forward, the smiling blond boy leading the way.

‘Potter,’ he greeted lightly. ‘I heard you were here, with the _Malfoys_.’

Harry frowned, trying to gauge the boy’s intention. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickled, but he wasn’t sure just how much danger he was in. He didn’t want to look like a stupid coward in front of Crabbe again, running to the protection of Lucius just because some boys looked at him funny.

‘Get lost, Bletchley,’ Theodore spat. ‘Can’t you tell where you’re not wanted?’

The boy’s gaze flickered briefly his way. ‘Get lost yourself, Nott. Go cry to your father. Us _wizards_ are trying to have a conversation here.’

That made Theodore flinch, for some reason. Harry’s jaw tightened and his fingers clenched.

‘A _proper_ wizard,’ he said tightly, doing his best imitation of Lucius at his coldest, ‘does not enter a conversation to which he has not been invited. Furthermore, he does not address a fellow wizard without introduction.’

These were among many other, rather outdated social rules that Narcissa had taught him and Draco. She’d stressed how important they were several times, and even given a test on it--and Lucius had smiled and said that it was important to remember when you were around older wizards, like Abraxas, but most people didn’t much care if you said hello to someone you’d never been introduced to. Still, it _was_ proper pure-blood behaviour, and that was all that mattered.

Bletchley’s smile vanished and he coloured, his thin lips pressed tightly together as a vein in his forehead pulsed. The squat boy giggled, and Bletchley shot him a glare.

‘Shut it, Derrick.’

The squat boy fell immediately silent, but he had to turn his head away to hide his smile.

‘I’m not scared of you, _Potter_ ,’ Bletchley snarled. ‘My father says you’re a phony, that it was Dumbledore all along who made the Dark Lord vanish. You’re just a figurehead, meant to distract everyone.’

Theodore had recovered, appearently, as he raised an eyebrow and said quietly, ‘Are you really so sure of that, Bletchley? If you’re not, then…you’re off to Hogwarts in two years. Be careful the Hat doesn’t sort you into Gryffindor, with all that bluster.’

Bletchley’s green eyes bulged, his lean freckled face transforming most unattractively until he reminded Harry a bit of a salamander being strangled.

‘Shut up, you jumped-up _Squib_!’ he half-shouted, half-shrieked.

‘That’s your best comeback?’ came a slow drawl from behind Harry and Theodore.

Harry smiled, relieved, as Draco strolled up between the two of them, evening the score.

‘Really, Bletchley, I would have thought you’d have something better than that in your arsenal,’ he went on coolly. ‘Even Harry and I have come up with _that_ one before.’

‘Everyone knows Nott’s name isn’t down for Hogwarts,’ Bletchley shot back smugly. ‘It’s more fitting in this case than most.’

Draco’s brow rose. ‘Is that so? You see, _my_ father told me only yesterday that Nott’s name _is_ down for Hogwarts. And, as you know, _my_ father is on the Board of Governors, so he ought to know.’

This only seemed to make Bletchley angrier, as the validity of his insult was snatched from him.

‘Yeah? For how long, Malfoy? With your father keeping precious _Potter_ here under his wing, how long before he loses support?’

Harry snorted, losing patience with this pointless antagonism. ‘If people like you are an example of his support, I’m sure he’ll somehow manage without you.’

‘My father will hear about this, Bletchley,’ Draco added. ‘Mark my words. We Malfoys know how to reward our friends--and as for the others….’

Bletchley glanced at Crabbe, who nodded, cracking his knuckles. Harry sighed as he realised that this was a signal--the time for talk was over, as far as the dim-witted opposition was concerned, and now had come the time for physical violence. It looked as though it was time for a field test of the skills Professor Snape had taught them.

He sent a mental apology to Narcissa--it looked as though his dress robes would not survive the encounter….

.

\------------------

.

Lucius clenched his jaw until it throbbed. He wasn’t even attempting to force a smile--it was a funeral reception, so his undoubtedly cold expression would not seem too out of place. The wizards and witches had separated into two different rooms after about ten minutes of exchanging sympathies, with the women probably off to weep into their handkerchiefs and reminisce about their departed friend. The men, on the other hand….

The temperature in the room had seemed to plummet, and without his wife and boys beside him, Lucius had quickly become a pariah, occupying his own corner of the room. Severus had slunk off to keep a discreet eye on Draco and Harry; the others eyed him with varying levels of hostility from groups of three and four, murmuring to one another. It would come to a head, soon enough, and Lucius pretended that he was pleased to have a quarter of the room to himself. He _had_ deliberately chosen the corner nearest the door, in anticipation of at least being confronted by his father and his small group of elderly ruffians. The late Evan Rosier’s beleaguered father, sad-eyed and still as dangerous as ever; Avery’s father, who approved of his son’s membership in the Death Eaters and literally nothing else, as Avery, Jr., was a very undiscriminating womaniser who was rumoured to have fathered at least one illegitimate half-blood child in his wanderings; and the elder Jugson, coughing into his sleeve and glowering at everyone equally.

Then there were the younger, official Death Eaters and not-so-official Death Eaters. Peyton was holding court on the opposite side of the room, gesticulating and wetting his audience with his spittle. Despite their obvious disgust, they showed no signs of moving off, so whatever he was saying was either very important or they very much agreed with it. Since his audience included the likes of Avery, Jr., Yaxley, Corner and Crabbe, this wasn’t likely to be in Lucius’s favour.

His hand did not stray from his wand.

‘Pontificating about loyalty.’

Lucius very carefully did not start, turning with a tight smile and accepting the cup of punch Matthew Nott handed him. He had no intention of actually drinking it, but he made a show of pretending to sip.

‘Hmm?’ he hummed, feigning ignorance.

Matthew gestured toward Peyton with his own cup, his jaw grinding. ‘Parkinson. He’s over there stirring them up, talking about how it would be bad enough if you were sheltering _any_ half-blood, but the fact you’ve got Harry Potter and haven’t either handed him over or killed him yet is a treason against the Dark Lord, punishable by death. He’s been making visits for a couple of weeks now, trying to draw support. Yaxley over there is letting him think he’s getting it, but the moment he rallies against you, you can be sure it’ll be Yaxley in charge.’ He shook his head. ‘Never mind that this is my wife’s funeral. Let’s talk politics instead, and…and act like she never existed.’

Lucius stared, puzzled. ‘You were all ready to have it out with me before the funeral.’

Matthew smiled faintly. ‘I want an explanation, and I’m sure there is one, for your handling of Potter. But my wife’s funeral is not an appropriate setting for that conversation. My emotions are…running high, and I wasn’t thinking when you arrived.’ He paused. ‘But I _do_ expect to meet with you, soon. I want an explanation for your actions, Lucius. Our lord would not be pleased with you.’

He nodded gravely. ‘Understood.’

And he did--his former position as the Dark Lord’s right hand was all that had kept the more level-headed among his ‘associates’ from immediately moving against him, but their patience was running short, especially with Peyton running around, stirring them up, and they wouldn’t wait much longer. They, like Abraxas, did not understand how damaging the sudden disappearance of Harry Potter would be.

‘I haven’t seen the Zabinis,’ he said casually.

‘They aren’t letting Blaise out of their sight,’ Matthew agreed, sipping his punch. ‘Since Eve…well, I think it’s made them want to keep him close while they can.’

Lucius nodded silently. More likely, it was their way of remaining neutral in the conflict.

Matthew nodded back. ‘Excuse me.’

He moved off, to the less political group, where Gennadius and Macnair and a few others were casting glances at Lucius, but mostly seemed to be discussing Ministry business. Lucius sent Gennadius a nod and received a smile in return. No threat from that corner, most likely--with Gennadius seemingly fine with him, the rest of the wizards in that group were Ministry workers who knew that a word from Lucius would see them demoted, at the very least.

He kept his eye on the rest of the room, stiffly avoiding the glares and hoping that they all had better sense than to gang up on him at a funeral reception.

.

\-------------------

.

Harry was having fun, which a part of his mind registered he should feel guilty about. It was hard, though, as he’d never been in an all-out mud fight. The _real_ fight hadn’t lasted long--Draco had, with the help of Professor Snape’s lessons in self-defence, easily dispatched Crabbe when he came at him, leaving the bigger boy crying and holding his arm in the middle of one of the thornier bushes. Theodore had shoved Harry aside and pounced on Bletchley himself--it seemed the two of them had a rivalry of sorts, and they promptly began rolling around, whacking at each other ineffectually while grunting out insults and curses.

That left Harry with Giggly Derrick. The other boy had looked surprised when punches began to be thrown, as though he hadn’t really understood what was going on, and it hadn’t dawned on him that physical violence might be an issue. After a moment of blinking at Harry like a deer in headlamps, he’d finally stooped to the bank, scooped up a handful of mud, and thrown it at Harry, rather half-heartedly. He giggled afterward, nervously, dancing a bit away as though he was afraid that Harry was going to tackle or punch him. Harry did neither--instead, he scooped up his own handful of mud and gave as good as he got. Derrick straightened, grinning, and readied another gob of mud.

The older boy who’d been watching Draco arrived at that moment, followed by the rest of the older children, and he dragged Theodore and Bletchley apart by their collars.

‘All right, break it up!’ he said, and took out his wand when Bletchley moved to tackle Theodore again. ‘That’s enough!’

‘Mind your own business, Flint!’ Bletchley sniffled.

He was crying and his nose was bleeding. Theodore was all red and crying, too, and it looked like he’d have a black eye tomorrow.

Flint just shook his head, scowling, but then he caught sight of Derrick’s raised hand, full of a dripping mud-ball.

To everyone’s surprise, the older boy grinned, showing rather frightful teeth.

‘Now _that_ , you may carry on with!’ he said brightly, and stomped over to the bank to get his own.

It wasn’t long before all of the boys and girls were lobbing mud at each other, the bank trampled enough that they all slipped and slid into each other. The older boys and girls had put their wands away and were playing fairly, although their larger size still gave them an advantage when they slid down the bank and crashed into someone. Theodore actually smiled for a moment when he got Draco full in the face. Bletchley fell in the water and accepted Harry’s hand out with no animosity, only to turn and shove his former compatriot, Derrick, into the creek. There were really no ‘sides’ now, that Harry could tell--it was an every-witch-or-wizard-for-him-or-herself free-for-all, and he quite cheerfully walloped Draco with a mud-ball after receiving one from him in the back of the head.

The only kids who did not participate, from what Harry could tell, were Pansy Parkinson, who shrieked and ran off crying when someone tossed some mud at her where she was standing and watching; Crabbe, who was still sitting and crying and cradling his arm; and Blaise, who rounded the corner of the bushes, took one look at what was going on, and ran back the way he’d come. It soon became apparent where he’d gone, as it was only a few minutes later that the adults began arriving--and they were _not_ happy.

‘WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING?!’ a wizard who could only be Bletchley’s father thundered, grabbing hold of Bletchley’s arm. ‘IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL YOUR BEST BEHAVIOUR?’

Harry winced in sympathy. The other adults were swooping in and dragging off their children, too, although a few of them looked as though they were suppressing smiles. Mr Crabbe slipped and fell when he went to haul his son out from under the bush, and Vincent let out a watery chuckle at the sight, which seemed to soften Mr Crabbe’s rage. The sight of Crabbe’s tear-streaked face seemed to help, too, so Harry didn’t feel _too_ awfully bad for him--although he was beginning to suspect that Draco had accidentally broken the other boy’s arm, since he was still holding it awkwardly and sniffling a bit.

Amidst the scoldings and weeping, though, Harry heard an all-too familiar imperious sniff. Draco had heard it, too, based on his sudden pallor and look of dread. Slowly, they turned.

Lucius stood on the edge of the mud slide they’d created, safe on the relatively dry grass. His knuckles were white around his cane and his eyes were cold and hard. Narcissa was just behind and to the left of him, red-eyed and shaking her head with disapproval as she looked them up and down. Professor Snape was beside her, and he was the only one whose expression didn’t promise their imminent doom--well, no more than usual, anyway.

Harry gulped, and heard Draco drop the mud-ball he’d been working on. It landed with a wet splat beside Harry’s formerly-shiny dress shoe. It belatedly occurred to him that his other foot had only a mud-caked sock, as the other shoe had evidently gone missing at some point.

Lucius’s lips thinned. ‘Come.’

They obeyed, dragging their feet only a little. Harry tried not to gasp when Lucius grabbed him by the collar and began hauling him back up toward the chapel.

‘Ouch! Let go!’ Draco yelped, evidently receiving the same treatment from Snape.

He was promptly shushed, and no one said anything. Even after they were back home, in the entrance hall, there was utter silence. Lucius just kept half-dragging Harry along, back upstairs to his room, with Professor Snape, Draco, and Narcissa on their heels.

They separated at Harry’s room, where Lucius broke off, hauling Harry through his sitting room and finally setting him on the edge of his bathtub.

‘Get yourself cleaned up,’ he said curtly, without looking at Harry. ‘Leave your ruined things on the floor--the house elves will get rid of them. After you are _clean_ and _presentable_ , you are to report to my study. You will not take any detours. Understood?’

Harry nodded unsteadily, and Lucius finally looked at him, his eyes flashing.

‘I said, _is that understood_?’ he repeated in a soft tone that made the hairs on Harry’s neck rise.

‘Yes, sir,’ he whispered quickly.

He dropped his eyes to stare at the floor so Lucius wouldn’t see that they were welling.

‘Good.’

The door slammed behind him, and Harry hugged himself, trying manfully to fight off the tears.

Why did he always have to mess things up? Lucius was _already_ angry with him about something, so why had he thought getting into a mud fight at a funeral was a good idea? Now Lucius would probably change his mind about getting permanent guardianship of Harry, like Narcissa said he was, and stick with the temporary kind so he could get rid of Harry whenever he wanted.

 _I’m so stupid! Why couldn’t I just be_ good _?_

All he’d ever wanted was to have a family, and all he’d had to do was _behave_ himself and try to be the best he could be, despite being a half-blood, and now it looked like he’d messed things up forever. If that thought made him cry a bit, then he tried to excuse himself for it, as he’d never felt so crushed in his life.

It took him a long time to wash all the caked-up mud off and out of his hair, and then he had to clean it off of his glasses. Draco was already waiting in front of Lucius’s desk by the time he made it down to the study. Professor Snape and Narcissa were both absent, and Lucius was ignoring Draco, intently writing something. He didn’t look up when Harry stopped beside Draco, either, and both boys struggled not to squirm while they waited. The only sound was the scratching of the quill on parchment.

‘I am writing a letter to the chapel’s building and grounds management,’ Lucius said at last, without looking up, his voice deceptively conversational. ‘I am apologising for the damage caused by my foolish ward and my brainless son, and offering to pay for repairs.’

Harry and Draco exchanged a glance full of guilt and dread.

‘Afterward,’ Lucius went on, ‘I will be writing to the Notts, to apologise for my half-witted ward and my idiotic son, both of whom are simply too thick to comprehend basic manners and codes of behaviour at formal social events.’

Harry flinched a bit at that, but to his surprise, Draco seemed to find the description pleasing. It occurred to him a moment later--Draco was hoping it meant that their ‘punishment’ would be to be spared from future events. Harry did not share his optimism.

At long last, Lucius finished and laid his quill aside, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

‘I’m struggling to understand. What… _possibly_ could have possessed you to make you think that what you did was a good idea? Please, help me understand. _Why_ did you think that a _mud fight_ was an acceptable post-funeral activity?’

Draco shrugged. ‘We didn’t start it. It was Derrick--he lobbed one at Harry. Well, and Bletchley _really_ started it first, calling Harry a fraud and Theodore a Squib.’

Lucius finally looked up, and his mouth was set in a thin line, his eyes still aqua green with anger. ‘I did not ask who started it,’ he said flatly. ‘It does not matter who started it. Both of you should have had the _sense_ to walk away, not to…to _lower_ yourselves to such… _uncivilised_ behaviour. May I remind you that you are the heir to the House of Malfoy? That that name and everything that is _attached_ to that name will be yours someday? That your very _future_ rides on--’

Draco chose this unfortunate moment to yawn, and Lucius’s mouth clicked shut. Draco shrank from his expression, but the damage was done.

The two Malfoys stared at one another for a long while; Harry tried to will the floor to open up and swallow him, to escape from the tension.

‘Get out,’ Lucius said at last, very quietly.

Draco bolted. Harry took a step backward.

‘Not you.’

He froze.

The silence grew between them, while Harry stared at the floor and listened to Lucius’s heavy breathing.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, after it had been so long that he thought the silence might actually suffocate him. ‘I knew it was wrong, but I got caught up in the moment. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’ He sniffled, resisting the urge to wipe his face on his sleeve--he’d forgotten to pocket a handkerchief. ‘I’m sorry. Please don’t send me away?’

There was another long silence, and then Lucius sighed.

‘Harry, I am not going to send you away,’ he said tiredly.

Harry’s head snapped up with surprise. ‘You’re…you’re not?’

Lucius didn’t look angry anymore, just very, very tired. ‘No.’

He bit his lip. ‘Then you…haven’t changed your mind? About getting me permanently? Narcissa said you were, but since you were so angry with me, I….’

Lucius frowned. ‘No, I haven’t changed my mind.’ He paused, looking very puzzled. ‘Harry, being angry with someone doesn’t mean you don’t like them anymore and don’t want them around. For example, I am… _extremely_ angry with Draco at the moment, but he is still my son, and I still love him. I’m not going to send him away. I am also angry and disappointed with your behaviour today, but you’re still my cousin and I still wish you to be here, in our family.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry, blinking. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed this--there had to be a point where the anger outweighed the love, didn’t there? He just must not have found that point yet.

‘Everyone makes mistakes, particularly when they are as young as you,’ Lucius went on, sighing again. ‘I hardly expect you to act perfectly at all times--I didn’t expect you and Draco to misbehave on quite this large a scale, but…. The fact that you recognise that what you did was wrong is at least a start. For your punishment, you will write letters to Mr Nott, Theodore, and to Narcissa, to apologise for your behaviour and, in Narcissa’s case, for destroying the robes she chose for you. When you’re finished, you will turn the letters in to me for review. If I find them satisfactory, I will send them for you, and if not, then you will do them over again.’

Harry blinked again, waiting, but that seemed to be all that was forthcoming. ‘And that’s all?’ he said timidly. ‘I can still go to Neville’s for his birthday? And we can still go to the zoo on mine?’

He had invited Neville to accompany them to the zoo, so they could celebrate their birthdays together, but Neville’s grandmother had flatly refused. As a compromise, she had allowed Neville to invite Harry over on his birthday, and they were to have dinner and cake and play together. Neville was very excited about it, as apparently, Diuvalle Hall had more extensive grounds than Malfoy Manor, and he had a lot to show Harry, or so he’d said in every letter since the initial invitation.

Lucius’s hesitation was brief. ‘Yes, you may still go to Mr Longbottom’s birthday celebration, and yes… _we_ …will still go to the…zoo for yours.’

Harry put down the hesitance to Lucius’s continuing reluctance to do anything he associated with Muggles.

‘Thank you, Cousin Lucius,’ he breathed, more relieved than he could say.

Lucius nodded shortly. ‘Well. Go and write your letters. The house elves will be sending dinner up to your room, as both of you are expected to stay in your own rooms for the remainder of the day-- _no_ playroom.’

‘Yes, Cousin Lucius,’ Harry replied dutifully, and hurried up to his room to begin his punishment.

He’d barely squeaked by this time, and he was determined not to put a toe out of line from now on. He didn’t even indulge his curiosity to see what Draco’s take on all of this was, and why he wasn’t more afraid or repentant for what they’d done. He’d seemed guilty enough until the time for reckoning came. Harry was still mildly terrified on Draco’s behalf, as his punishment would undoubtedly be more serious, after his behaviour in the study. There was nothing he could do, though, so he tried his best to put it from his mind and got to work on his apology letters.


	18. The Blood Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius makes a breakthrough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not entirely happy with this one, after revision and fixing a structural problem, but it's time to let go and move on, so here we are.
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuing to read this story--your support has amazed and humbled me. I hope you continue to enjoy the story, and I am always very happy to hear your thoughts on it. :)

‘ _No, no, NO_! When a Muggle puts his hand out for you to shake, you don’t stare at it like it’s a snake about to bite you. _Again_!’

Lucius sighed and went back to the doorway, scratching unhappily at his bare forearms. Severus had supplied him with a ‘tee shirt,’ which was apparently appropriate zoo attire. Fortunately, he hadn’t also been required to bare his legs or any other parts of his body he was unaccustomed to showing publicly. His neck was very oddly on display, too, although not as badly as it would be later, when Severus insisted he’d need to take a potion or use a spell to temporarily alter his hair length.

‘Muggles, as a rule, aren’t fond of wizard hair styles,’ Severus had said tersely, but refused to explain further.

He was supposed to be getting tickets to this…zoo, and exchanging some Galleons for Muggle money, and a Portkey to get there, and sundry other things he claimed were necessary, although he’d grumbled more than a bit when Lucius asked him. He had also immediately insisted on ‘training’ Lucius on how to act.

‘I think I know how to behave a sight better than all those filthy Muggles,’ Lucius had sniffed.

‘Right,’ Severus said shortly. ‘And what is your response when someone jostles you in the queue? Are you going to hex them? The Ministry might have a problem with that.’

Lucius scowled and assented to a few lessons in Muggle behaviour, but he was quickly regretting that decision.

‘I don’t see what this has to do with taking my family to the infernal Muggle zoo,’ Lucius growled now, tugging the loose collar upward. ‘I won’t be shaking hands with any Muggles, or going to their houses.’

‘Nonetheless, you’ll probably have to touch one, even if it’s only to exchange money, so it will be good for you to practise _not_ acting like they have plague and you’re afraid to touch them,’ Severus said, sneering. ‘If you can’t even shake _my_ hand, how are you going to stand being in amongst the Muggle crowds?’

Lucius sneered back. ‘I have high hopes that most Muggles have better bathing habits than you, and don’t have a thin film of slime all over them.’

Severus rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. Fine. Good enough, I suppose. You’ll be back to collect the tickets and money on Wednesday?’

‘Yes, that will do,’ Lucius said, pulling off the awful Muggle shirt with relief and quickly donning his own shirt. ‘Hopefully, this will get the last of the Muggle world out of Harry’s system. He’s really been doing quite well in adjusting to being a wizard,’ he added a bit proudly as he buttoned his robe. ‘I was very surprised he requested an awful Muggle place for his birthday. He’d been so interested in his heritage.’

‘Don’t forget that the awful Muggle place is a part of his heritage, too,’ Severus said icily, handing Lucius his cloak.

He snatched it out of his hand. ‘How can I? You won’t let me.’

Severus stared at him seriously, all traces of sarcasm or nastiness gone from his face. ‘I’m not the only one, Lucius.’

Lucius stopped midway to the fireplace, his hand twitching spastically around his cane. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t play stupid, Lucius, it doesn’t suit you.’

The corner of his mouth tugged downward--he knew very well what Severus meant.

‘It would be bad enough if he wasn’t the bloody Boy Who Lived,’ Severus went on, spitting the name with distaste. ‘If he was merely an orphan--he’s still a half-blood. But as it is….’

Lucius’s lips twitched. ‘I am not a blood traitor,’ he said crisply.

_I am not. I am_ not. Helping a family member, keeping him on as a ward, couldn’t possibly be considered out of bounds. It wasn’t as though he was planning to marry Harry off to Pansy or one of the other pure-blood girls their age….

‘But they will think of you as one, if they find out about this zoo trip,’ Severus said with uncharacteristic patience. ‘You know they will. You’re willingly setting foot in the Muggle world--and not to torture or wreak havoc, but to _enjoy_ yourself.’

He shuddered. ‘I will most certainly _not_ \--’

‘It doesn’t matter to them, Lucius, and you know it. It doesn’t matter that you’re only doing it because you care for the boy--in their eyes, that would only condemn you further.’

Lucius agitatedly brushed his hair aside. ‘They’re fools. All of them.’

Severus’s mouth flickered with an almost-smile. ‘That goes without saying.’

He sighed, thumping his cane on the rug rhythmically for a moment. ‘What is your point, Severus?’

‘My point is…that you need to be very careful. A lot of them are on the fence for now, but knowing you’d gone to a Muggle place…. No one can know. If they throw in with Yaxley, you and your family will have to hole up in your manor for the rest of your lives--and even then, with Abraxas around, it might not be safe.’

Lucius scowled. ‘Which is why I came to you to get what I need. As far as I know, my father doesn’t know about the trip, and I don’t intend for him to find out.’

‘You’re going to have to deal with him eventually,’ Severus said darkly. ‘He won’t hold off forever.’ He paused, pursing his lips and looking around his quarters in a restless way. ‘I had it from Avery that his father and yours have been exchanging letters. Avery says his father is too ratted these days to do anything himself, not to mention half off his broomstick, although it’s hard to tell if that’s true or if Avery is just spewing guff because his father threatened to disinherit him again…. Anyway, he’s probably riling your father up.’

It was more frightening than he wished to admit. The walls were closing in, and he wasn’t half as close to emptying the manor of Dark objects as he wished to be, even with the house elves’ help--and the last time he’d stopped in at the Child Welfare Office to check their progress, the Administrator had hinted that soon, he and Harry would be required to give interviews. He had no idea how he was going to broach the subject with Harry, who grew to dislike talking about his time with the Dursleys more every day, and he had no idea how his father would react when he discovered just how close he was to actually keeping Harry, and--

He ground his thoughts to a halt with an effort, eyeing Severus coolly to mask his pounding heart.

‘And just how do you suggest I “deal” with my father?’ he demanded waspishly. ‘I can only do what I have always done, and--’

Severus’s brow rose. ‘ _Or_ ….’

It took a moment of thought, but he quickly grasped what Severus was _not_ saying. He was not at all pleased.

‘As flattering,’ Lucius said icily, ‘as it is that you think me capable of patricide, Severus, _some_ of us consider our own blood sacred.’

‘And if it comes to him or Harry?’

The question was quiet, not at all defiant, and Severus remained serious, with no trace of maliciousness or teasing about him.

Lucius left without answering. It was an impossible choice to make.

.

\------------------------------

.

When he arrived back in his study, it was to find an anxious Narcissa waiting for him.

‘Where have you been? Never mind--you have visitors. They’re waiting for you in the sitting room. I must get back to the boys. Draco is trying to help Harry make a birthday list that says something more than “Socks”--I’m still not certain where he got that idea--’

‘Who?’ Lucius interrupted curtly, tossing aside his cloak.

She shot him an annoyed look, but paused in her hurry to leave. ‘Nott, Goyle, Zabini.’

With that, she was on her way. Lucius watched her go unhappily. Relations between them had been strained, at best, since the night she revealed her altered allegiances. Perhaps he could offer to watch the boys while she visited her sister, sometime soon, to show his support of her views, even if he didn’t share them. It couldn’t hurt, anyway.

He wasn’t especially eager to face the inquisition no doubt awaiting him in the sitting room. After being forced to pretend to be a Muggle and then unfairly confronted by Severus less than ten minutes ago, all he wanted was a hot soak and a cup of tea with a dash of something stronger--not yet another altercation over his choices for his family.

How was he supposed to win through in this situation? There was no way to come out on top, because there was no way to please everyone. The Dark Lord’s followers were beginning to hate him and want him dead because they thought he was doing too much for the boy who’d caused their lord to disappear--and his wife was beginning to hate him for not doing enough. The middle course didn’t seem to be working, but what else was he to do?

Perhaps…it would have been better if he hadn’t relented--if he’d never gone after him and--

But no. It was far too late for such thoughts, and he felt guilty even thinking it, knowing the indignities Harry had suffered at the hands of his Muggle relatives.

With a sigh, Lucius shook off his thoughts and forced himself to walk to the sitting room.

Gennadius and Matteo were sitting near the fireplace, munching on an array of sandwiches. Matthew was standing at the window, his hands clasped behind his back. They all looked up when he stepped into the room, but to his surprise, Gennadius and Matteo both smiled, and even Matthew looked marginally less depressed for a moment.

‘Lucius! We were beginning to despair of you,’ Matteo said brightly. ‘Sit and have a sandwich. Your house elves are still the best cooks around, save Hogwarts.’

This was unexpected, to say the least. Uncertainly, he crossed and perched on the edge of a chair. Matthew gradually crossed to join them, too, although he declined the sandwich Gennadius waved at him.

‘Nerina sends you her best--she and Blaise are entertaining Theodore,’ Matteo went on pleasantly. ‘Oh, and both boys asked us to ask if Harry’s going to have a birthday bash as big as Draco’s.’

Lucius hesitated, struggling not to frown. ‘Harry…prefers to have a quiet family affair. He’s rather less outgoing than Draco.’

‘Ah. I thought he seemed shy at the party, although not so much at the--funeral.’

He glanced guiltily at Matthew, who smiled faintly.

‘Actually,’ he said quietly, ‘I came to thank you, Lucius.’

Lucius blinked. ‘What for?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘I can’t account for it, but that silly fight cheered my Theodore up quite a bit. He smiles whenever he talks about it--particularly the part where Draco slipped and fell on his bum. I’ve heard about _that_ more times than I care to count.’

This conversation seemed destined to wrongfoot him.

‘…Ah.’ He paused. ‘You’re welcome?’

Matteo and Gennadius chuckled.

‘I also wanted to thank you for making Harry and Draco write us apology letters,’ Matthew added. ‘They were most amusing.’

Lucius couldn’t contain his frown then. ‘They were not supposed to be amusing.’

He raised his hand in a conciliating gesture. ‘And I’m certain the authors were perfectly sincere, but…I’m sorry, Lucius, but there’s something inherently amusing about reading, “I apologise for chucking mud at your son’s face.”’

There was a general chuckle at that, and Lucius attempted to loosen his taut shoulders and relax a bit.

‘I do hope you didn’t punish them too severely,’ Matteo piped up. ‘They weren’t the only ones involved, you know.’

Lucius didn’t bother to ask how any of _their_ children had been punished--it was likely they hadn’t been punished at all, which was only acceptable in Theodore’s case, in his opinion.

‘They spent a week confined to their rooms,’ he said stiffly. ‘And, of course, had to write the apology letters.’ He saw them exchange a glance and quickly changed the subject. ‘Is young Crabbe all right? He looked a little worse for wear, the last I saw him, and I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to write to his father.’

Matteo smiled. ‘He’s fine. Your son broke his arm quite neatly, right at the elbow, but a quick trip to a healer and he was right as rain.’

Lucius wasn’t entirely certain that the flush of pride he felt was at all appropriate.

‘By the by, have you seen the _Prophet_ today?’

Without waiting for an answer, Matteo pulled the paper off of the table beside the platter of sandwiches and passed it over.

Lucius had not, in fact, seen it, so he indulged them. It was quickly apparent why they wanted him to see it--Skeeter had finally made her move and nudged the wizarding public to start questioning.

_Where has the Boy Who Lived been?_

Not the most creative headline, but that _was_ what the article was about. With skill that did her credit, Skeeter asked where he’d been all this time, to suddenly surface with the Malfoys, and then intimated that possibly Dumbledore knew more than he was saying. Lucius was pleased, overall. She was doing very well for what he was paying her. This article wouldn’t exactly turn public opinion _against_ Dumbledore, but they would start thinking, and that was what he wanted.

He allowed a flicker of satisfaction to pass over his face.

‘We want to ask you the same question,’ Matteo said seriously, jarring him from his thoughts.

Lucius froze his expression, all of his former tension seizing him at the realisation that _this_ was why they had come--it was about Harry. It was always about Harry, wasn’t it?

‘I beg your pardon?’

The three wizards exchanged a glance that Lucius couldn’t read.

‘We want to know where Harry Potter was,’ Matthew said quietly. ‘We want to know where you found him.’

Lucius’s hand tightened on the head of his cane. ‘Why?’

To his surprise, it was Gennadius who spoke. ‘Because we want to know that we’re not wrong.’

That…made no sense. Lucius made no attempt to answer, blinking.

Matteo was biting his lip, looking oddly boyish in his nervousness, and Gennadius had returned to munching sandwiches as though there was nothing going on. It therefore fell to Matthew, who seemed to Lucius to look even more hangdog than usual at the moment.

‘We want to know that we’re not wrong to side with you over Yaxley and Peyton.’

Lucius’s brows rose. ‘I’m sorry?’

Matthew blew out a breath. ‘I’m not going to debate whether the Dark Lord is ever coming back,’ he said with a nervous glance at the door. ‘Frankly, I’m not sure it would make a difference even if he did.’

Lucius struggled not to react to the shock that caused as Matthew continued, as Matteo and Gennadius didn’t seem fazed. Then again, perhaps they had heard this speech before.

‘Things are different now. Not just in our world, but in our personal lives--we’re older. We have children. We have responsibilities. My parents are gone.’ Matthew’s face twisted briefly. ‘My wife is gone. If I’m killed, cut down like Evan in some Auror’s raid or skirmish, who will take care of my son? Not the Dark Lord--he who never had a kind word for any of us, though he was quick enough with a _Crucio_ ,’ he added bitterly.

Matteo silently snarled at that, shaking his head in memory. He hadn’t been pleased, Lucius remembered, when his successful efforts to steal an artefact from a museum had been met with the Cruciatus, on the grounds that he’d left prints behind when he failed to wear gloves. An intelligent, faithful servant would have thought of that, the Dark Lord had said, and he wanted only intelligent, faithful servants. Lucius had sometimes thought that, that being the case, the Dark Lord should have recruited followers from the wizarding philosophy retreat in Morocco, rather than from children not yet of age at Hogwarts. Then again, the wizard-philosophers would not have been able to agree on the validity of the Dark Lord’s agenda--they couldn’t even agree on whether or not reality was, in fact, real.

‘Who else is there?’ Matthew went on tightly. ‘Other followers of the Dark Lord, any of whom could be killed just as easily as me. And would you honestly trust Draco in the hands of the likes of Macnair, or Yaxley, or one of our comrades in Azkaban? I send Theodore to his room and ward it when they’re about, I certainly wouldn’t trust them to raise him.’ He shook his head. ‘Whether he’s coming back or not, I’m not a young man with no ties to worry about anymore. As much as I feel the Muggle-borns are encroaching on our ways, I can’t afford to be part of a militant effort to stop them anymore.’

Lucius said nothing for a long moment, idly tracing the fangs on his cane’s snake-head. Matthew and Matteo watched him with nearly visible tension, but Gennadius munched away contentedly, apparently oblivious to the conversation.

‘You are aware,’ he said softly at last, ‘that _not_ joining the Dark Lord--or his remaining followers, if he should never return--is just as likely to be fatal as joining him? You are either with him or against him, in his eyes. It won’t matter that we aren’t a part of Dumbledore’s silly band of fools--failure to return will be viewed as an equal sin, punishable by death.’

Matteo nodded almost sagely--they had obviously discussed and considered that.

‘If we went out on our own, that would be certain death,’ Matthew said. ‘But there is strength in numbers. And with _you_ leading us, we stand a chance of making it through without _either_ side killing us off. If it comes to war again, we can retreat here--the Dark Lord himself couldn’t have got through your wards without permission, and Dumbledore will be so relieved to see us out of the action he won’t try.’

Lucius doubted that either the Dark Lord _or_ Dumbledore would have any trouble with the wards, but he let the remark pass.

The more important issue was that they were speaking treason against the Dark Lord, openly and without hesitation--and choosing _him_ as the replacement. Because….

Because he had the Boy Who Lived.

They weren’t saying it, but they were Slytherins, too. Beneath the deliberate flattery was the knowledge that Harry Potter had--somehow--vanquished the Dark Lord, and they believed he could do it again.

And Harry Potter obeyed and answered to Lucius Malfoy.

So when they asked where he had found Harry, they were looking for confirmation that they weren’t choosing the wrong leader--that Harry would remain loyal to him for the foreseeable future.

Well, at least _some_ of his former associates had reacted close to how he’d imagined they would, when he was considering taking Harry in.

‘We’re willing to stand by you faithfully, Lucius,’ Matteo said with an anxious glance at Matthew, evidently mistaking his silence for rejection. ‘We’ll be called blood traitors right along with you. We know the truth, so it will mean nothing.’

Blood traitor. Even they thought that was what he was.

‘I found Harry with his Muggle relatives,’ he murmured. ‘They were forcing him to live in a cupboard and making him wait on them hand and foot. He was desperate for rescue. He has fully embraced the wizarding world as his true home.’

They could never, _ever_ find out about the zoo trip. He would have to impress that upon Draco--his so-called ‘bragging rights’ were out of the question.

Matteo and Matthew exchanged another glance, this one plainly relieved and pleased.

‘We knew it had to be something like that,’ Matteo said, satisfied. ‘He _is_ a cousin, after all, however distant, and clearly a wizard. It wouldn’t have been right to leave him with _Muggles_.’ He shuddered delicately.

Lucius smiled grimly, as that had been his exact thought process.

‘Are you going to tell the _Prophet_?’ Matthew asked.

‘Eventually,’ Lucius drawled. ‘I want the public to stew over what they’ve said, for now.’

They agreed with the wisdom of that, and after some small talk, they finally began preparing to leave.

All except Gennadius--he sat eating for a few minutes more after Matthew and Matteo had said their farewells, and looked up expectantly when he’d finished the last sandwich.

‘They’re gone?’ he said thickly around the last bite.

Lucius inclined his head. ‘Can I get you anything else, Gennadius?’ he asked, more out of politeness than anything else. He desperately wanted a long hot soak to release the tension in his back and neck, and he had decided to forgo the tea in favour of a tall glass of something alcoholic. He would even settle for Firewhisky, at this point.

To his relief, Gennadius shook his head. ‘No. I was just waiting for them to leave.’

He stood, shaking the crumbs off of his robe, and then thought for a long moment. Lucius waited as patiently as he could--he’d learnt over the years that rushing a Goyle did no good. They just lost their train of thought and had to start again, so it was quicker in the long run to let them have their think the first time around.

‘I wanted to tell you that I don’t care about any of that nonsense they were talking about,’ he said at last. Then he nodded, once, like that was that.

Lucius blinked, and waited for a bit, but nothing else seemed to be forthcoming. ‘Which part, specifically?’

Gennadius blinked back at him.

He sighed. ‘Which part of that nonsense?’

‘Oh.’ He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and Lucius resisted the automatic urge to scold him. ‘The parts where their supporting you hinges on anything. I wanted you to know that I’m on your side no matter what.’

Well. It was coming from a _Goyle_ , but…it was oddly touching. He’d never had anyone pledge unqualified loyalty to him before.

‘Yes?’ he said, his voice raspier than he would have liked.

‘Yes,’ Gennadius agreed. ‘I only joined the Dark Lord because you did. If you’re siding with Harry Potter instead now, then I am, too.’

Lucius didn’t know how to react to that. He hadn’t done anything to deserve that kind of blind trust, as far as he knew.

He smiled crookedly. ‘Are you certain the Hat didn’t want to put you in Hufflepuff?’

Gennadius grinned back. ‘I don’t think there’s any call to get insulting, Lucius.’

He chuckled and walked Gennadius out, feeling warmer toward the big wizard than ever before. He didn’t trust his declaration, but it was still one of the nicest things he’d ever heard.

.

\-----------------------

.

That evening, with Narcissa glaring at him from down the table, Lucius invited Harry to walk with him in the garden. It was a Sunday, so it wasn’t unusual, but the fact that he looked Harry in the eye and directly addressed him caused minor shockwaves among the assembly. Lucius pretended not to notice.

Harry trailed after him silently, biting his lip and glancing up at him through his fringe, like he was waiting for Lucius to turn and snap at him. It was painfully similar to how he’d behaved when Lucius first brought him home, but he didn’t speak until they reached his mother’s garden and Harry had begun to relax.

‘Harry,’ he said, keeping his voice as soft and gentle as he could. ‘May I ask what’s bothering you?’

Harry jumped, wringing his hands and looking guilty. ‘Well, I….’ He mumbled something.

Lucius sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder, steering him toward the bench under the arbour. ‘Harry. I realise I haven’t been as attentive as I could have been of late, but I can’t help noticing that you’re upset about something. Is it something I can be of assistance with?’

He went pink, shuffling his feet in the dirt and fidgeting with his sleeves. ‘I just…. Are you going to be angry with me forever? I don’t want you to hate me,’ he said sadly.

Then he looked up, his green eyes big and shiny, and Lucius would gladly have bought him anything he wanted, up to and including his very own racing broom, to stop him looking like that.

_Blood traitor,_ a little voice that sounded oddly like his mother whispered in the back of his mind.

No, he wasn’t--he _wasn’t_. He just cared for a dear cousin. That was all. It meant nothing to the pure-blood cause, so how could it make him a traitor?

It couldn’t--but now Harry’s eyes were welling, and he couldn’t stand it for a moment.

‘Oh…Harry, I don’t hate you,’ he said, returning his hand to Harry’s shoulder. ‘And I’m not angry with you.’

Harry frowned at that, his brows knitting. ‘But you wouldn’t talk to me, and--’

‘I’m not angry with you,’ Lucius repeated firmly. ‘I was angry with myself.’

That drew him up short, his eyes drying and his head tilting with puzzlement.

‘Why were you angry with yourself?’

Lucius smiled. ‘Don’t worry about it, Harry. Instead, I’d like to hear about what you and Draco have been up to. I hear he had to help you with your birthday list?’

Harry was clearly still sceptical, but as he gained speed, the uncertainty slowly faded and he began to look the way he had before, happy and worshipful and full of life. Lucius couldn’t help the feeling of contentment and satisfaction at the sight.

_Blood traitor,_ the little voice whispered.

Lucius ignored it, letting Harry’s animated chatter drown it out.

.

\------------------

.

The next day brought a flurry of activity. Harry stood by with wide eyes and watched it all.

Narcissa had finally pronounced herself pleased with the fifth draft of Harry’s birthday list, so she and Draco were hurrying to get ready to go shopping. It was only Monday, but apparently, since Harry’s birthday was on Sunday, that didn’t leave them enough time to get in all the shopping they needed to do.

Harry didn’t see how that could be when there were only fifteen items on the list--he was beginning to suspect that they were getting more than he asked for. He didn’t see _how_ , as he’d had a hard enough time coming up with those fifteen items. Honestly, Draco had suggested eleven of them. He still didn’t see why Draco thought he needed his own chess set when there were already five sets of them in the house, or why he needed yet another set of Ballycastle Bats pyjamas when he already had three, or why he needed a shaving kit when he wasn’t old enough to shave _just_ because it was a special limited edition set with Quidditch star Finbar Quigley’s signature on the side, but after a while, it just wasn’t worth arguing anymore.

Lucius was rushing around, too, as he’d apparently been called to an emergency meeting of the Board of Governors. He was grumbling about it, but he was doing it anyway, and in between getting dressed and getting his papers together, he’d stopped to call Professor Snape.

‘Why can’t Remus come in and look after me?’ Harry asked, aware that he was whining but unable to help it, even though he knew that in his hurry, it would test Lucius’s patience, and they’d only just patched things up.

It was just that, even though they’d spent more time together because of the self-defence lessons, Harry still found Professor Snape more than a little intimidating. Snape had been a little more mellow lately, but that was more by ignoring Harry and failing to find fault with him than by being _kind_. Things were improving between them as they worked out how Harry learned best, though, and he didn’t want to mess that up in any way. Spending time with him outside of lessons provided potential to do just that.

Lucius, however, didn’t snap at Harry--his face froze and he looked uncharacteristically startled. ‘Er--Remus is…ill,’ he said after a moment.

Harry frowned--Remus seemed to be sick an awful lot. Aunt Petunia would have said he was just shiftless and lazy, and Uncle Vernon would have said that that was what was wrong with society today. Harry just wondered if it meant his honourary uncle had some kind of condition, and worried it meant he would get sicker and sicker until he died.

‘You’ll be good for Professor Snape, won’t you?’ Lucius asked, only to shake his head and ruffle Harry’s hair. ‘What am I saying? Of course you will. He’ll be here in a few minutes, stay in your room until he comes to get you. Whatever you do, don’t open the door to my father. Have fun, I’ll see you at dinner!’

With that, he was gone. Narcissa and Draco came thundering down the stairs right after, grinning and breathless with excitement. Harry really didn’t see what was so exciting about shopping for his birthday, but he grinned back, enjoying their good mood anyway.

‘See you later, Harry darling! Enjoy yourself!’ Narcissa said, bending to kiss his cheek and then breezing on by.

‘Yes, goodbye, Harry darling!’ Draco said in a falsetto, and scampered after his mother, giggling at the look on Harry’s face.

Harry shook his head and quickly retreated to his room. He had no desire to be caught out by Abraxas! He’d only just shut the door when a sharp knock resounded.

His heart leapt into his throat. ‘Who is it?’

‘Professor Snape.’

He blew out a huge breath and opened the door.

Snape was scowling at him. ‘Do you run away from Lupin when he babysits you?’

Harry objected to the term ‘babysit,’ but didn’t voice his displeasure.

‘No, I just didn’t know you were right behind me,’ he said meekly.

Professor Snape snorted. ‘Then for your next lesson, we’re working on self-awareness.’ He sneered at Harry’s sitting room. ‘I hope you don’t expect me to stay here and play dragons, or whatever it is you do.’

Harry shuffled his feet. ‘Well, we could go for a walk instead?’

Snape nodded curtly and turned on his heel. After a few paces, he seemed to realise that Harry wasn’t with him. He turned and raised a brow.

‘In order to go for a walk, I believe you have to actually _walk_ , Potter,’ he said dryly.

Harry ran to catch up in short order, and was rewarded with a snort.

It was his preference to go to his favourite garden, obviously, but Snape turned into the hedge maze, filled with low shrubs and flowers in diamonds and triangles. Harry didn’t like this particular garden much, but he kept quiet, following Professor Snape’s lead.

‘So, Potter, how many thousands of presents are you expecting?’ the older wizard asked sharply, startling Harry so much that he nearly fell into a bush.

He reddened. ‘Not thousands. Just fifteen. Although I think Narcissa is going to buy me more than that. I really don’t need them, but everyone says I should have them. She called me a silly goose when I said so.’

Snape shot him a look that seemed oddly uncertain. ‘Well. I suppose a boy ought to have a few things. For his first ten birthdays or so, anyway.’ The odd look vanished. ‘Just don’t expect anything from me. I have better things to do with my time.’

Harry shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t expect you to get me anything.’ He kicked a rock on the path. ‘But…I _was_ hoping that maybe…. Never mind.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You were hoping what? If you’re not going to say it, then don’t _begin_ to say it, Potter. Thinking before you open your mouth in the first place will eliminate this problem.’

Harry bit his lip. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise, spit it out, Potter.’

‘Well…. I was just wondering if maybe, as a birthday gift to me, you would tell me a story about my mum before Hogwarts, when only you knew her?’ he asked tentatively. ‘It’s just…I like hearing stories from Hogwarts, but most of them are about my dad, or he comes into it, and there are lots of stories that Remus knows that are just about _him_ , and not about Mum at all, but he doesn’t know any stories that are just about _Mum_ and not about Dad at all. So I thought since you knew her before Hogwarts, maybe you knew one that was _just_ about her?’

Professor Snape was apparently so startled that he stopped walking to look at Harry with widened eyes.

‘You don’t have to, though,’ Harry added, anxious about this reaction.

Snape didn’t answer, but he slowly turned and started walking again. Harry hurried to keep up with him, as he didn’t want to be scolded again.

One of the peacocks crossed the path ahead of them, pausing only to shriek at them. Professor Snape was looking at the sky, but Harry didn’t see more than a few puffy white clouds to the west, so he wasn’t sure what was so interesting--it definitely didn’t look like it might rain anytime soon.

‘Your mother,’ Snape said softly, but so suddenly that Harry almost startled into a bush again. ‘Your mother was my first--and only--real friend. The day I met her, she was playing in the park with her sister--your aunt, Petunia. I knew from the very moment I first saw her that she was someone special….’

Harry kept his mouth shut and listened with rapt attention as Professor Snape spoke, quietly but fervently, his dark eyes far away.

.

\-----------------

.

Lucius resisted the urge to sigh and rub his temples to ease the headache gathering there. Fortunately, the house elves knew to have a potion waiting for him whenever he returned from one of these stupid governors’ meetings. It was the only thought getting him through--particularly as he was more than a bit nervous about how Severus and Harry were getting on. He really wished it wasn’t the week of Lupin’s ‘time of the month.’ The full moon was on the twenty-ninth, and Lupin had chosen today to look for a new spot to spend his impending transformation. It was bad timing all round. Still, Severus and Harry had been getting on better of late, so hopefully he wouldn’t return home to a cranky greaseball and a boy in tears.

If he ever _got_ to go home.

‘You two bring this up every year, and every year we say no! Why must we discuss it _again_?’

Pickleby, a near-ancient wizard with a tendency to cough on people, was shouting at Dumbledore and Twiggs. He and Hua were the only other former Slytherins on the board, although Tomkin was a former Ravenclaw and a pure-blood sympathiser, so the four of them generally got what they wanted. It helped that there were no former Gryffindor governors currently. Twiggs tried hard to make reforms and generally aided Dumbledore with whatever he wanted, but for the most part, the other governors were content to show up to meetings, sleep through them, and then go home. They were frightened of Lucius, for various reasons, so they just voted whatever he did and called it a day.

Today, no one was sleeping, because Pickleby had decided to throw a temper tantrum. It was extremely irritating.

‘I fail to see why we shouldn’t extend the same courtesy to Muggle-raised half-bloods and Muggle-borns that we extend to pure-bloods,’ Twiggs said in a strained but polite voice. ‘If we offer pure-bloods the option of a small voucher for wands and other mandatory supplies, then why should we not offer the same to those Muggle families whose children qualify for Hogwarts, but who may be at an economical disadvantage?’

‘How would we gauge such a disadvantage?’ Tomkin said smugly. ‘Muggle currency and economy is vastly different from our own, and--’

Twiggs scoffed, but Lucius cut him off.

‘And you think we wizards are so stupid that we couldn’t figure it out?’ he snapped.

All of the governors and Dumbledore blinked at him in shock. It wasn’t often that he spoke, as discussions had a tendency to go his way anyway, with Pickleby bullying most of the governors on his behalf; when he _did_ speak, it was always in a honeying fashion, coaxing the others after Pickleby had browbeaten them into submission. Lucius had lost his patience, though, and he wanted to go home.

Pickleby stared at him, utterly gobsmacked. ‘Mr Malfoy…. Am I to understand that you are _in favour_ of granting half-bloods and Muggle-borns the option of a school supply voucher?’

_Blood traitor._

Lucius scowled, their stares making his skin prickle. ‘I have no opinion on the matter. I’m simply tired of debating the issue, and also, I see no reason for having an _emergency_ meeting over it. As you say, we debate it every year, and I thought emergency meetings were only called for _emergencies_.’

The table remained quiet, although a few glances were exchanged. After a moment, Pickleby opened his mouth and started bellowing again, darting glances at Lucius as though he was uncertain now that he didn’t know if they were on the same side or not.

But now Lucius was thinking about the stupid vouchers. They weren’t worth much--the Weasleys took advantage of them to buy their children’s supplies, and they still ended up with secondhand garbage and inherited wands much of the time. Still, it was better than nothing. He hated to think of the rags they’d be wearing if it _weren’t_ for the vouchers offsetting the cost.

Rags made him think of Harry, then--Harry when he’d emerged from the cupboard at the Dursleys’. The other boy’s old clothes were like tents on little Harry, threadbare and unravelling. Lucius knew now that Harry’s parents had thought ahead to his schooling and opened a trust vault--but what if they hadn’t? What if Harry hadn’t ever found that book, and written to his cousins in desperation? What if he had had to make his way in the wizarding world with nothing--no money, no family?

The absolute horror of the thought--of his sweet, good Harry having to suffer being worse off than a _Weasley_ \--caught him in the gut so hard that he gasped aloud.

‘Mr Malfoy?’ Hua said with clear concern.

Lucius waved him away, and the discussion resumed again. He could feel Dumbledore’s eyes on him, but it and the little voice calling him _blood traitor_ were drowned out by his struggle to recover his equilibrium. If they couldn’t keep Harry, and Dumbledore contrived to have him sent back to those Muggles, then he would be back to square one. He would have his trust vault, in theory--but what if Dumbledore found a way to take that from him, too? He seemed determined to see the boy in misery, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

He had to protect Harry, at any cost, and this was yet another way.

_Blood traitor,_ the little voice whispered, more insistently than ever.

It was true that this would undoubtedly be yet another strike against him. He wasn’t certain whether to trust them or not, but he’d had three offers of loyalty in addition to the support of Severus and Lupin, so he wouldn’t be standing entirely alone--hopefully.

And a part of him wondered--would it really be so bad to be a blood traitor? His wife was apparently one, and she hadn’t changed in any other way. A large part of him wanted to stand by her--he loved her, he loved Harry, he loved Draco. It was his _duty_ to stand by them. He didn’t care what anyone else thought, when it came down to it. They were all a bunch of idiots anyway. The only opinions that mattered were those of his family--excluding Abraxas.

He loved his family--how could that be wrong? _Family first_ , his mother had said--wasn’t that what he was doing?

‘That’s enough of this foolishness,’ Pickleby said sharply. ‘Dumbledore, out, we’re ready to vote.’

Dumbledore stood, frowning, and reluctantly left the room, watching Lucius intently.

‘All of those in favour of extending the option of school vouchers to all students?’ Tomkin said.

_Blood traitor,_ the little voice whispered.

_If that is what I am, then so be it,_ Lucius thought, and he raised his hand.


	19. More Questions Than Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry helps Neville celebrate his birthday; Remus uncovers a deception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a big thank you to all of you for reading and commenting! Your feedback is so lovely, I'm constantly amazed by it. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story, and I'd be very pleased indeed if you felt like telling me what you thought of this chapter--good or bad. :)
> 
> Second, a special thank you to [noamg](http://archiveofourown.org/users/noamg/pseuds/noamg), a frequent commenter without whom the end of this chapter would not have made much sense at all. Trust me, guys, you could have driven a truck through that hole in my logic.
> 
> Thank you all again! :)

‘ _Lucius Malfoy_ voted to extend the voucher program?!’

Dumbledore smiled tiredly at Minerva, who was gaping at him as though he’d just turned purple and announced his intention to become a travelling minstrel while wearing a saucepan on his head. ‘Yes, and as usual, most of the other governors followed suit. Only Pickleby and Tomkin held out against, apparently. As I was saying, the vouchers are now available to all students, so in addition to the other information we provide to Muggle-born families, we shall have to come up with a way of gauging their financial status to see if they qualify for a voucher. I’m assuming you and Filius can handle that?’

Minerva recovered quickly, snatching up a quill to write herself a note. ‘Yes, of course, Albus. It will be simple enough. We already have an idea of how to go about it, we were just waiting for permission to use it. I was beginning to think that permission would never come.’

‘Good, good.’ Dumbledore nodded absently to himself. ‘I trust you’ll take care of it as efficiently as always. Thank you, Minerva.’

He turned to go, but her voice stopped him almost immediately.

‘Albus--what do you think Malfoy is up to?’

He turned back, frowning deeply and tugging at his beard. ‘I’m not certain, Minerva. That is what is making me so uneasy--what could Lucius possibly stand to gain from this? If there is some plot in this, I can’t see it. This is a real risk that I am at a loss to understand.’

She shook her head. ‘Is there really no way he could get a profit from it somehow? Is he currying favour with someone, possibly?’ She paused. ‘Could someone be coercing him?’

Dumbledore sighed, feeling the weight of his years. ‘It’s possible, but I doubt it. Anything is possible, I suppose, but he showed no signs of the Imperius, and I have no idea who he would be attempting to curry favour with. Mr Twiggs is a Hogwarts governor, but he has no other influence that I know of--his stationery supply is a rival of Lucius’s, so I can’t see him wishing to ingratiate himself. I just can’t see any reason for him to have voted the way he did. It isn’t in keeping with his beliefs, and the risk to his status among his fellows outweighs any gains he _might_ have seen in the act.’

She sat slowly, straightening the papers on her desk distractedly. ‘Then why…why would he…?’

‘I haven’t a clue,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll be investigating a bit to try and find out. Perhaps it wasn’t the Imperius, perhaps it was simple blackmail. Rest assured, my dear, I will find out, if it is.’

Minerva nodded at that.

‘Oh--and I thought you would like to know that Severus managed to get some time alone with Harry during the meeting yesterday. He couldn’t abscond with him without blowing his cover, of course, but he was able to run a few scans without his notice,’ Dumbledore said, still quite pleased with that.

Minerva smiled, too, her shoulders relaxing a bit. ‘Good news?’

‘There is still no sign that Harry is being mistreated physically. He didn’t dare try any Legilimency to see if they’ve tampered with his mind, since Abraxas was still at home, but there is no indication that they’ve been using potions or spells of any other kind against him.’ He couldn’t help but smile. ‘Harry is still safe for now.’

She was visibly relieved. ‘I’m glad.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve worried about him ever since that night. Those Muggles weren’t good for him, so it’s better he’s out of there--but the Malfoys are certainly no improvement. At least he’s in good health for now.’

Dumbledore hid a grimace. He didn’t expect her to understand, as she had been the one to originally argue against leaving Harry with the Dursleys. To this day, she still insisted that Hogwarts was safer than any kind of blood wards and that he should have applied to the board of governors for special permission for Harry to live there full-time.

Although, given Lucius’s position on the board, Minerva had often conceded that it wasn’t likely to have passed anyway--she still thought he could have at least tried. Given how stubborn he knew she was, Dumbledore didn’t argue, he just tried not to bring it up at all.

‘Indeed. Well, I’ll leave you to it, Minerva.’

She waved him off and returned to her paperwork.

Dumbledore slowly wandered the corridors, turning the puzzle of Lucius Malfoy over and over in his mind.

.

\---------------------------

.

Harry stood grinning and wriggling as Narcissa fussed over his robes, tugging them into place and picking off bits of fuzz. Draco was pouting in the corner, but Harry was much too happy to care. He checked that Neville’s wrapped present was in his pocket for the eighth time, half-listening to Lucius’s lecture.

‘And when Mrs Longbottom welcomes you into her home, you bow and you thank her. If she offers you any refreshments, you decline-- _politely_ , mind! I imagine you’ll be eating plenty at luncheon--but don’t overstuff yourself, and remember your manners!’

Harry privately thought that Lucius was more nervous than he was. ‘I will, I promise.’

Lucius nodded once, shortly, and ruffled Harry’s hair. ‘Good.’

Narcissa glowered at him and set to work combing Harry’s hair back down.

Draco’s pout deepened, his lower lip jutting out. ‘I don’t understand why I can’t go,’ he said petulantly, idly tearing leaves off the potted plant beside him.

Harry looked away guiltily. He had told Draco he would ask Neville if he could go, too, but he hadn’t, really, partly because he didn’t want Draco to take Neville over, and partly because he didn’t want to offend Neville by being pushy and get uninvited himself.

‘Because you were not invited,’ Lucius said crisply. ‘If you want young Mr Longbottom to invite you to his next social event, then perhaps you should be kind to him the next time you see him.’

Draco grumbled something unintelligible.

‘There,’ Narcissa interrupted, smiling gently at Harry. ‘Much better. Now, are you ready, Harry? Do you have everything you need?’

He nodded happily.

‘Good. Mind your manners, give Neville our best wishes--but most importantly, have fun!’

She kissed his forehead and escorted him to the fireplace, as Neville had told him it was best if he came via Floo Network.

‘Thank you, I will!’ Harry said, grabbing a handful of Floo powder. ‘Diuvalle Hall!’

He landed on his bum again, but with _slightly_ more grace than usual. It didn’t end up mattering, because the only person in the room waiting for him was Neville, and he immediately pounced on him in a hug.

‘Harry, you came! You really came!’ he squealed excitedly.

‘Of course I came,’ Harry choked out. ‘I said I would.’

Neville let go of him immediately. ‘Sorry. It’s just…I’ve never had any friends come for my birthday before.’

Harry smiled, climbing to his feet. ‘That’s all right. Happy birthday!’

His grin returned full force, his round face lighting up. ‘Thank you! Happy birthday to you, tomorrow!’

At that moment, the voice of Mrs Longbottom rang out, making both boys jump.

‘Neville? Neville, is Harry here?’ She came around the corner, her eyes narrowed. ‘Ah, yes. There you are.’

Well, it wasn’t exactly a welcome, but….

‘Mrs Longbottom,’ Harry said stiltedly, bowing. ‘Thank you for your kind invitation into your home.’

She snorted, but he thought she looked a little approving. ‘Neville’s invitation, not mine. Now, then, Mr Potter--I’ve a few notices whilst you are here. There will be no running indoors. Lunch will be served precisely at noon, and cake and ice cream will be served at exactly three o’clock. You are to report to this room to return home no later than four-thirty. For the remainder of the time, the two of you may do as you wish, as long as you do not disturb me--I will be in my study. If you have any requests outside of mealtimes, our house elf, Wheezy, will attend you. Any questions?’

‘No, madam.’

‘Good.’

With a sniff, Mrs Longbottom turned and swept out of the room.

Harry released his breath at the same time as Neville, and they exchanged a sheepish grin.

‘It’s a beautiful day--let’s go outside,’ Neville said, fidgeting as though he was caught halfway between nervousness and excitement. ‘There’s so much I want you to see!’

He grabbed Harry’s arm and hauled him out of the room. Harry chuckled and tried his best to keep up--he was pretty used to this from Draco, after all, and Neville was slower.

The house was much darker than the Malfoys’--the walls were made of big stone blocks, so there were fewer windows, and many of them were stained glass, leaving only filtered, coloured light through. The floors creaked as they passed over them, the wide, dark-stained planks protesting their age. Instead of gilt-framed paintings and marble statues, the Longbottoms had dusty, fading tapestries and, on tables, small bronze figures, usually knights tilting at great creatures with tiny ruby or diamond eyes.

It was no wonder Neville wanted to be outside, Harry thought as they burst out of the heavy oak doors onto the wide stair. His jaw dropped as he took it in--a terraced lawn dropping away to twin butterfly lakes, lying still and reflecting the perfect blue sky. Trees lined each side of the great lawn, with paths leading away, to the outbuildings whose roofs barely peeked through, and to the seemingly endless moor beyond.

‘Diuvalle Park,’ Neville said, grinning and rocking on his heels.

Harry didn’t have to pretend to be impressed--this was twice the size of the Malfoy gardens! ‘It’s beautiful, Neville.’

He puffed up proudly. ‘Come on--I want to show you my greenhouse.’

Harry trotted down the stairs and down the terraced lawn after him, following down the left-hand path to a small greenhouse, previously hidden behind the trees and shrubs lining the path.

‘Gran had it built for my fifth birthday,’ Neville said as he unlocked the door. ‘No one in my family has ever had much interest in plants--in growing them, I mean--but she says that even though she doesn’t understand it, at least I’m interested in something. She’d really rather if I was into Quidditch, though--like my father was.’

His voice got quiet at that, but he perked up again as he swung the door open. Harry obediently followed him inside, making appropriate noises of admiration as Neville chattered animatedly about each plant. Really, he was a little creeped out--a lot of these plants were _moving_ , on their own, and he sort of felt like one of them was watching him. Still, it _was_ pretty impressive that Neville had grown all of them himself--without being eaten, no less.

‘It’s really cool, Neville,’ he said firmly when Neville fell silent, watching him anxiously. ‘But it’s pretty hot in here. Was there something else you wanted to show me?’

Neville smiled with blatant pleasure. ‘It _is_ muggy in here. Yeah, I wanted to show you the stables!’ He let Harry step out first and locked the door behind them. ‘Do you know how to ride?’

Harry bit his lip. ‘Ride what?’

‘Oh--not a broom or a winged horse or anything, just a regular pony. I can’t ride anything else,’ he added, hanging his head.

‘I can’t, either,’ Harry said quickly. ‘I mean, I have a broom at home, but I never ride it. I don’t know how to ride a pony, either, though. If you want to, I’ll try.’

Neville’s face lit up. ‘We can just stay in the stableyard--that’s where I first learnt to ride. It’s pretty small, but that’s perfect for a beginner. The pony can’t go too fast if it takes off on you in the yard.’

He tried to look confident, for Neville’s sake. He’d never been around a pony before in his life, but he didn’t want Neville to feel bad or feel like he couldn’t do something on his birthday, so he resolved to try to be brave and give it his best effort.

The stable was a stone building, too, mossy and old, older even than the house. Neville walked in and tripped; Harry quickly grabbed his elbow to steady him.

‘Thanks,’ Neville mumbled.

Harry just nodded, not making a big deal of it, which seemed to make him feel better.

‘I’m not a very good rider,’ he said as he gathered up what looked to Harry like a pile of leather straps and metal rings. ‘I’m not very good at anything, really. But riding is fun. Gran wants me to get better at it so that someday I can handle my dad’s old winged horse.’

He gestured down the aisle, toward a heavily fortified stall. Harry shuddered.

‘For now, Gran hires someone to look after him. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough, though.’

Harry frowned, grabbing a strap and lifting it off the ground before Neville could step on it. ‘You’re good at some things. You’re very good at growing plants.’

Neville shrugged, but his expression was rather sheepishly pleased. ‘Gran wants me to be an Auror someday, like my dad. There isn’t much call for gardening skill in the Auror Office.’ With a grunt, he plopped his bundle of leather on a bench outside of two stalls near the door. ‘I think we’ll ride bareback today. I don’t feel like messing with saddles, and anyway, Merlin’s so roly-poly I don’t think you could fall off him if you tried.’

‘Merlin?’

‘He’s the pony I usually ride--he’s slow and lazy, but he’s nice and he won’t try to take off on you unless he sees a snake. Even then, he won’t get far, since the yard is fenced.’

Harry helped carry the long lines of leather over to the first stall. ‘And the other pony?’

Neville grimaced. ‘Gran doesn’t like it, but I named him Grindel, after Grindelwald, because he’s a git. I’ll have to go in _his_ stall alone--he’ll try to bite you if you come in. He’ll try to bite me, too, but I’m used to it.’

When they stepped into Merlin’s stall, Harry raised his brows, but it was rather difficult to be frightened of the animal that turned to greet them. Merlin was squat, and rounder than a barrel, his big belly swinging with each step. His long black hair partially covered his eyes and stuck out in every direction, too thick to lie completely flat. His pointed little ears barely stuck out of the mess, visible only when they turned this way or that. He had a little snip of white on his nose, and when he tossed his mane aside and looked at Harry, his dark brown eye was oddly warm, twinkling like a greeting.

‘Merlin, this is Harry,’ Neville said. ‘Say hello.’

The fat pony sniffed Harry, rubbing his velvety nose on Harry’s cheek.

Harry giggled. ‘His whiskers tickle.’

‘He needs a shave,’ Neville agreed sagely.

‘And a haircut. He makes _my_ hair look neat.’

They easily got the bridle on Merlin (after Neville sorted it out), and Harry led him out into the aisle to wait for Neville and Grindel. Merlin amused Harry while they waited by sniffing his pockets, looking for treats. His nose bumped against the wrapped box in Harry’s robe pocket.

‘No, that’s not for you, silly.’

Merlin snorted and shook his mane, but refrained from trying to eat it.

A panting, red-faced Neville finally emerged then, straining to tug a very recalcitrant Grindel after him.

‘Sorry about that,’ he wheezed.

‘No problem,’ said Harry, and eyed Grindel uncertainly.

Neville followed his gaze. ‘Oh, he won’t try to bite you unless you get nearer. He’s always a lot nastier to whoever is riding him.’

Grindel bared his dull yellow teeth and gave Neville a narrow look. Neville laughed nervously and led the way out into the yard. Dodging Grindel’s flashing jaws now and again, Neville showed Harry the mounting block and explained how to climb up onto Merlin’s back.

‘And don’t worry if you fall off,’ he added as Harry took a hold of a big hunk of Merlin’s mane. ‘I do it all the time--I promise not to laugh if you won’t.’

‘I won’t laugh,’ Harry promised solemnly, and thought that it was definitely good that Draco wasn’t here--he would have laughed uproariously at both of them.

It took some effort to swing his leg over Merlin’s back, even with the help of the mounting block, but that was largely because his back was so wide that it was difficult to spread his legs that far.

Harry chuckled when he was finally settled. ‘I feel like I’m straddling a bed.’

Neville smiled. ‘Yeah, he’s basically a walking couch. Now, squeeze your legs and kiss a little, and he’ll start walking. Make sure you’ve got hold of the reins first, though.’

He obeyed, and couldn’t help but laugh when Merlin actually obeyed and began plodding on the well-worn track that followed the fence.

‘I’m riding a pony!’ he cried. ‘I’ve never done this before! This is amazing!’

It felt even funnier with Merlin moving, his big round belly gently rocking Harry back and forth with each step.

‘Well done, Harry!’ Neville called out. ‘Now, try to grip with your thighs, and hold the reins in one hand!’

Harry blinked, looking between each hand. ‘Which one?’

Neville faltered. ‘Er…the left, I think? I don’t remember.’

With a shrug, he transferred both ends of the reins into his left hand, holding them rather lazily. He stayed quiet while Neville mounted up, wrestling a very reluctant Grindel over to the mounting block. Grindel was still a pony, so he was still a bit stocky, but he was much more lithe and active than Merlin, dodging nimbly when Neville was set to swing his leg over. At long last, he managed it, and immediately kicked the annoyed grey pony to catch up with Merlin.

‘You’ve been riding for three years?’ Harry asked when he caught up.

Neville reddened. ‘I know it doesn’t look like it--I forget a lot of what I’m supposed to do…. I’ll never even be a _good_ rider, let alone a great one, like Gran wants.’

‘No, I meant that you did well. I don’t think I could’ve got on Grindel for thir _teen_ years of trying, never mind _three_. He really is a piece of work.’

Grindel snorted and gave a little crowhop that made Neville grab for his mane. Still, he seemed pleased by Harry’s compliment.

‘You’re only saying that because you just started today,’ he said modestly when he’d recovered control. ‘In three years, you’d be a _much_ better rider than me.’

‘No, because then you’d have been riding for _six_ years,’ Harry insisted, grinning. ‘So you’d still be better than me.’

Neville flushed with pleasure, and then a moment later, landed hard on his bum--Grindel had bucked him off and was already cantering away. Harry urged Merlin to go faster, but only achieved a slightly faster walk; Neville ended up retrieving Grindel himself and starting the process of climbing back up all over again.

After three more attempts, Neville finally put Grindel (who looked quite happy with himself) back in his stall, rubbing his sore backside.

‘We’ll leave Merlin out in the yard--we’ll need to ride him together if I’m to show you the rest of the park after lunch. It’s too big to walk the whole way.’

Harry agreed and followed him back up to the house. Merlin didn’t seem bothered, as he immediately set to trimming the grass in the yard.

Lunch was served in a long, echoing dining chamber lit by torches along the walls. The tapestries depicted wizards in farm scenes, mostly, although the one behind the head chair showed a knight astride a unicorn, his sword drawn and the unicorn rearing. The table was a long wooden plank, stained dark until it was almost black.

‘I don’t like it in here, either,’ Neville said, nudging Harry toward a chair. ‘It’s dark and musty. But it’s better with you here. My only company is usually my gran, Great-Auntie Enid, and my great-uncle, Algie. He’s not here this week--he’s touring Wales, or so Gran says. You can never tell with him. Sometimes he says he’s going to Blackpool, but he comes back in a straw boater, complaining about the Caribbean heat. You can never tell when he’ll be back, either. He’s not supposed to be back until Tuesday, but I bet he’ll be back tonight, when he remembers it’s my birthday.’

Harry chuckled. ‘He sounds amusing.’

‘He is, I suppose,’ Neville said thoughtfully. ‘When he isn’t shoving you off a pier, that is.’

Harry’s eyes popped wide, and he paused in the act of reaching for a slice of ham.

‘Oh--he wouldn’t push _you_ off a pier.’

He frowned. ‘But why would he push _you_ off a pier?’

‘Well, I can’t swim well.’

This did not improve matters, in Harry’s view.

Neville sighed. ‘Do you know what a Squib is, Harry?’

Harry’s frown deepened--with much reluctance, Lucius had explained Squibs to Harry, after Harry reported what Bletchley had said about Theodore not being down for Hogwarts. He had also informed Harry that Theodore _was_ down for Hogwarts, in fact, but he had not been until he was six, which had caused his parents to worry that he was never going to show any magic.

‘Yes, but what’s that got to do with you?’ he asked defiantly.

Neville blinked. ‘I…well, I could be one. I haven’t shown any magic.’

‘Maybe not enough to impress your relatives, or the Hogwarts book thing that decides if you’re magical enough, but I don’t think you could have grown all those magic plants without being eaten if you didn’t have any magic,’ Harry said, shuddering again at the thought.

He perked up a bit at that, but then shook his head again. ‘It’s not good enough. My relatives want to be _sure_ that I have magic. Great-Uncle Algie pushed me off the pier so that I would display some magic, to save myself.’

‘Did it work?’

Neville shook his head glumly. ‘He had to fish me out after a few minutes. I didn’t do anything but start drowning.’

Harry didn’t think Great-Uncle Algie was so amusing anymore. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t be a good idea to ask you if you want to go swimming, then.’

To his surprise, that made Neville laugh. ‘I was five or six when that happened, Harry--I know how to swim now. Gran insisted afterward that I learn.’

‘So…she doesn’t approve of your great-uncle trying to kill you?’

His brows knit. ‘He isn’t trying to kill me, Harry--he didn’t actually _let_ me drown.’

Harry was not impressed; he chose to show it by trying to make Lucius’s _‘Is that really the story you’re going with?’_ face, usually employed when Draco concocted a fantastical story to explain why something was broken. He wasn’t sure how successful he was.

‘Anyway, yeah, she’s all right with it. She just didn’t remember before that that I couldn’t swim, and my father--’

‘--was a great swimmer,’ Harry finished flatly. ‘It figures.’

Neville reddened and shrugged.

‘Let’s not go swimming, then. Let’s do something _you_ want to do. It’s your birthday, after all.’

His round face lit up with pleasure. ‘I’d like to show you the rest of the park. We’ll get back on Merlin, like I said, and we’ll go ride on the trail.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Harry agreed.

After they finished lunch, Neville led the way back out to the stableyard, where Merlin was still diligently mowing the grass.

‘All right, chum, time to work,’ Neville said cheerfully.

Merlin snorted, but Harry thought he looked like he was smiling. He accepted the bridle and both boys without a fuss, anyway.

‘Hold onto me, Harry,’ Neville instructed, and when Harry hugged his waist, he nodded approvingly and opened the gate.

The pony waddled through it obediently. Harry was afraid, for a moment, that Merlin would take advantage of the wide open spaces and run off, but he never shifted out of his rolling plod, even when Neville pointed his nose toward a gap in the treeline.

‘Gran wants me to ride Grindel on the trail,’ Neville said as they turned onto a dirt path into a grove of trees. ‘But I think he’d take off on me.’

‘Probably,’ Harry said with a nod. ‘You’re right, he seems a git to me, too.’

He sighed. ‘Yeah, but my dad would have been able to handle him.’

Harry fell silent for a while, thinking. ‘Neville--don’t take this the wrong way, but--isn’t there any other family you could stay with?’

Neville didn’t answer, and Harry couldn’t see his face. His heart thumped a little with panic.

‘I mean, your gran and your great-uncle seem a bit demanding. And my Muggle relatives was a little demanding, so I found my wizard family, and Cousin Lucius and Narcissa and Draco are all _much_ nicer to me than my Muggle relatives were. So I just wondered if there was anyone else….’

He trailed off. Neville still wasn’t saying anything, and he wracked his brains for something to say to fix it.

Nothing came to mind. The undergrowth was thicker here, and sometimes branches reached out to catch Merlin’s legs, but he didn’t stumble, just brushed them aside.

‘There isn’t anyone else,’ Neville said at last, quietly. ‘My parents had no siblings, and my mum’s parents were killed in the war.’

Harry bit his lip, hugging Neville a little tighter, only partly to steady himself. ‘How old were you when they died?’

Neville’s voice dropped even lower. ‘They didn’t die.’

He had no idea what to say to that--he had a million questions, but he was sure that this was something Neville didn’t want to talk about, so he was _also_ sure that he shouldn’t ask any of them.

But to his surprise, Neville went on anyway, the words tight with emotion, his back rigid. ‘A group of You-Know-Who’s followers came to our home, looking for their master. Mum and Dad didn’t know where he was, but they wouldn’t have told even if they had. The Death Eaters--his followers…. They tortured them. For a long time. Have you ever heard of the Cruciatus Curse?’

Harry shook his head mutely.

‘It’s an Unforgivable Curse--you go to Azkaban if you use it. They used it for so long that my parents went mad from it. They’re still in St Mungo’s, in care. I was just a babe.’ He paused, and there was a note of forced cheer in his voice when he continued. ‘I visit them every two weeks.’

Harry swallowed hard. ‘I’m so sorry, Neville.’

That was worse than having dead parents, in his opinion--knowing they were alive, but couldn’t take care of you? Couldn’t even take care of themselves? Neville said they were mad--did they even know their son when he came to see them? He couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. It almost-- _almost_ \--made him relieved that his parents were dead.

Neville shrugged. ‘It’s all right.’

It wasn’t, not really, but Harry didn’t know what else to say. Neville already knew it was unfair (he was the one who had to live it, after all), so yelling it wouldn’t be helpful.

‘Did they catch the Death Eaters who did it?’ Harry asked instead.

He nodded. ‘They’re all in Azkaban--Barty Crouch, Jr., Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, and Bellatrix Lestrange.’

There was a steel in his tone when he spoke the names, and Harry was glad he couldn’t see his face.

‘I’m glad they went to prison,’ Harry said.

Neville grunted.

They rode in silence until the trees began to thin out, and they came to a stone fence. On the other side, the moor stretched out before them, green and yellow and purple. It looked like it went on forever, and Harry found himself breathing deeply at the sensation of wide open space.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Neville said, turning enough so Harry could see his smile.

‘Yeah….’

Neville took a deep breath, too, tilting his head back to catch the sun for a moment. ‘I come out here when Gran is getting to be too much. It’s quiet out here.’

He didn’t comment further, but Harry understood what he meant.

‘Can we go out there?’

He shook his head. ‘No--we’re in wizard space on this side of the fence, but on that side, it’s a Muggle park. We _could_ cross the fence, but we’d be risking breaking the Statute of Secrecy, since if any Muggles were watching, it would look like we just popped into existence on that side of the fence, and we can’t Obliviate them since we don’t have wands. They think there’s just the road in front of our house on this side, Gran says.’

Harry nodded his understanding. Lucius said that there was nothing more important for a wizard than upholding the Statute of Secrecy. Draco had immediately disagreed that there was nothing more important for a wizard than his wand, and Lucius had said they weren’t going to get into a debate over it, but yes, they were both Very Important.

‘What kind of flowers are those?’ he asked, pointing out at the purple patches.

‘ _Calluna vulgaris_ ,’ Neville replied promptly, straightening a little with pride at his knowledge. ‘Common heather. Some of it’s blooming a little early this year. It usually comes in about mid-August. This whole area will be purple then--you’re lucky some of it decided to bloom early, so you got to see a little of it.’

Harry nodded, and Merlin shook his mane, stomping his feet. They laughed.

‘All right, all right, we’ll head back,’ Neville said.

‘Good; you can tell me what kinds of trees those were.’

Neville narrated on the trip back, seeming to have forgotten their conversation from before, much to Harry’s relief.

Mrs Longbottom was waiting for them when they got back to the house, leaning on her cane with one eye squinted and the other staring. Harry thought she resembled the dead vulture on the hat she’d worn at the bookshop.

‘It’s not three already?’ Neville said, wilting.

Mrs Longbottom’s lips drew down. ‘No, not quite--but your great-uncle has returned early, for your birthday, so Mr Potter will have to go home early.’

‘Oh.’

The two boys exchanged mournful glances, and Mrs Longbottom’s lips tugged down even further.

‘I’ll let you two say your goodbyes in private before seeing Mr Potter off,’ she sniffed, and swept into the house.

Harry didn’t bother to ask why he had to go home just because Neville’s great-uncle had returned. It was pretty evident how Neville’s family felt about him, whatever their reasons (which he didn’t mind, as he was used to being disliked), and they also seemed the sort to think that family came first and friends barely at all. It was no wonder Neville wrote so often--he probably wasn’t allowed to have any other friends.

‘Thank you for coming over, Harry,’ Neville mumbled. ‘I had a great time. I wish you could stay longer….’

Harry nodded and reached for his pocket. ‘So do I--but before I go, I’ve got to give you your birthday present.’

He straightened, his round face twisting with mixed confusion and tentative excitement. ‘You--you brought me a present?’

Harry smiled and presented the little package. It was much more neatly wrapped than Lucius’s presents had been, because Narcissa helped him instead of Dobby this time. She seemed to have a lot more practise with it--and also, she had cheated a bit and used magic for the folds.

Neville took the box reverently, his mouth open in shock. After a moment, though, he began carefully ripping the paper. The box inside had a clear top, so he could see the little seeds nestled in the moist paper inside.

‘Cousin Lucius put a stasis spell on it, so don’t get the seeds out until you’re ready to plant them,’ Harry said, too excited to wait for Neville to say something. ‘They’re Malfoy night roses, he said, so the best time to plant them is at midnight on a waning moon in the autumn. The stasis spell will last until the winter.’

Neville’s mouth was hanging open and his eyes were comically large, but he stood holding the box and didn’t say anything.

Harry fidgeted nervously. ‘I was going to buy you a herbology book instead, but I wasn’t sure what you already had, and Cousin Lucius said these roses are kind of a novelty among serious wizard gardeners, but nobody except the Malfoys cultivate them with any real continuity, so it’s hard to find them unless you _are_ a Malfoy, and since you’re a serious wizard gardener, I thought--’

He was cut off abruptly by Neville’s hug, which was so sudden and tight that the air went out of him with a _whoosh_. After only a second, Neville released him, red-faced and eyes lowered. He was cradling the box close to his chest with both hands, now, as though afraid he would drop it.

‘Thank you, Harry,’ he said softly.

‘You’re very welcome,’ Harry said, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘Happy birthday, Neville.’

Neville smiled.

.

\----------------------------

.

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace into an empty sitting room. He wasn’t really surprised--he was home early, so no one had known to be waiting for him. This was relieving in the case of Abraxas. At the thought of the old man, he quickly ran up the stairs to Lucius’s sitting room, knocking brightly.

‘Come in.’

Harry poked his head in. ‘Hi! I just wanted to let you know that I’m back! Hi! See you later!’

He heard Lucius’s answering chuckle as he closed the door behind him and continued up the stairs. He found Narcissa and Draco in the playroom, engrossed in a game of chess. Judging from the thunderous scowl on Draco’s face, he wasn’t faring well.

‘Back already?’ Narcissa greeted him, clearly pleased about that, as she waved him over for a quick hug and kiss.

He accepted happily. ‘Yes--Neville’s great-uncle came home from his trip early, so his grandmother wanted him to spend some time with the family. He really liked his present. Thanks for your help.’

She didn’t answer, partly because it was her turn to move and partly because he had already thanked her a dozen times.

He raised a brow at the board. Draco was playing white, and there weren’t many pieces left. Harry wasn’t very good at chess at all, but even _he_ knew that the fact that Draco only had his king, queen, a bishop and two pawns left was a bad sign.

‘We’ll be done in a few minutes, Harry,’ Narcissa assured him after sliding her knight over.

Draco groaned as his bishop was slaughtered mercilessly. ‘ _I’ll_ be done in a few minutes….’

Harry hid a smile. ‘That’s all right. I had something I wanted to look up before dinner anyway. I’ll be back.’

Narcissa looked at him sharply. ‘You’re not going to the library alone?’

‘No, just to my room. The book I need is in there.’

She visibly relaxed and consented to that.

He left them to it, retreating to his room and taking down his wizard families book. He settled cross-legged on the window seat with it, idly flipping to the L’s. His cheeks heated as he finally realised why Narcissa thought he would know Lucius’s birthday--the dates were all listed in the book. He’d forgotten. He could find out hers in preparation this winter, so he wouldn’t be caught by surprise.

The Lestranges were in the front of the L’s, and their family tree was one of the ones that was tightly interwoven with itself. Not as tightly as the Gaunts, though, which was good--Draco had told him the Gaunts had died out because they married their cousins a few too many times. Harry didn’t really understand why so many of them married their cousins anyway, but then, since his options were all male, he figured that coloured his opinion on the subject.

Rodolphus and Rabastan were brothers, according to the book--Bellatrix had married into the family. The blood drained from his face when he read her maiden name.

‘Bellatrix _Black_?’ he murmured.

He’d noted the name when Draco ran him through Narcissa’s family, but he had assumed that her sisters were dead or something when Draco didn’t give him a twelve-point lecture about each of them. He hadn’t been able to ask, as he couldn’t get a word in edgewise during Draco’s diatribe, and by the time it was over, he just wanted lunch.

He flipped to the back of the book--surely it wasn’t the _same_ Bellatrix Black….

But it was. There in black and white, Harry saw that the same woman who had helped torture Neville’s parents into madness was Narcissa’s sister.

He listened to his own breathing for a moment, letting the spinning feeling settle.

Narcissa never _talked_ about her--no one ever did. On the rare occasions when her sister ( _singular_ ) was mentioned, it was Andromeda, not Bellatrix. Lucius had told him that Narcissa and Andromeda still talked, but it was better not to talk about it in case Abraxas overheard, since he didn’t approve of Andromeda’s marriage to a Muggle-born. No one had ever mentioned Bellatrix, and Harry had never looked at the back of the book for the Black family entry, to see the record of her marriage to a Lestrange. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have understood until now. She was either dead or imprisoned for what she’d done. (A vicious little part of him hoped she was dead, but he quickly shushed it.)

It wasn’t Narcissa’s fault that her sister had done something so awful--and it certainly explained why she and Mrs Longbottom had been so awkward with each other in the bookshop! And perhaps even why Mrs Longbottom hadn’t wanted Neville to come to Malfoy Manor…?

Although…. Harry frowned. Lucius had said that Abraxas was one of the Dark Lord’s followers--the Death Eaters--as well. What if he had wanted Lucius and Narcissa to be Death Eaters, too? With Narcissa’s one sister married to a Muggle-born and the other a Death Eater, too, which way would she have sided?

And what about Lucius?

Harry knew that Lucius almost always did what Abraxas wanted him to do. Even if it made him angry, he would grumble and snarl a bit, but he would do it. Wouldn’t that have been even more true when he was younger?

His insides felt like they were turning to liquid at the thought that his dearest cousins might have been a part of the group that had driven Neville’s parents mad, and _killed_ his parents--

But did it really count if they were forced into it? Was it their fault if someone else _made_ them join? Didn’t that make it Abraxas’s fault?

And there was also the Dark Lord himself to consider--Lucius said that he killed anyone who stood in his way. Would he have any compunctions about killing someone who was ‘asked’ to join and said no? Harry didn’t really think so.

He shook his head so hard it spun again. He didn’t have any proof that they _were_ Death Eaters, and they couldn’t help who their relatives were. Still, he couldn’t shake the melancholy that settled over him, and he brushed off Draco’s questions about what he and Neville had got up to, halfheartedly going through the motions for the rest of the day.

Narcissa must have noticed, because she took special care tucking him in that night.

‘Are you excited for your birthday tomorrow?’ she asked gently as she carefully adjusted his duvet.

Harry shrugged and hummed.

She smiled and smoothed his hair down. ‘A little too much fun today? I think you’re over-tired.’

‘Maybe,’ he mumbled.

She kissed his forehead. ‘Try and get some sleep. You’ve got another day of excitement ahead of you!’

He tried to muster a smile. She seemed satisfied and doused the lights, heading out to try and settle a very whiny and excited Draco in his own bedroom.

Harry sighed after the door was shut. Sleep was elusive, and it seemed that the harder he tried _not_ to think about things, the more they floated around in his brain. He squeezed his eyes shut and heaved another sigh, resigning himself to a long night.

.

\------------------------------------

.

Arthur sighed inwardly as he looked across the table at his beleaguered dinner guest. Poor Remus had just endured a full moon the previous night, and while Arthur’s invitation to dinner tonight had been well-meant, he now regretted subjecting the already-exhausted wizard to his rambunctious family.

Not that they didn’t have good reasons--well, most of them. Bill had just accepted a position with Gringott’s as a curse-breaker, and would be leaving on Monday. He planned to live at home for the first three months, just in case the job didn’t work out and to stay home with the younger kids while Arthur and Molly got Charlie and Percy off to Hogwarts again in September. After that, he would be moving out permanently near the end of October. He was already scouting for places, to get a feel for the market, and Molly and Ginny were both having trouble not giving in to tears--Ginny especially. Bill was her favourite brother.

Charlie was excited because Bill’s impending departure apparently made him feel like the man of the house--either that, or it had been the letter from Professor McGonagall, informing him of his position as Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for the coming year. Either way, he was struggling to act like an adult, but giving in to the twins’s wildness more often than not as his excitement got the better of him. Percy was excited--well, as excited as he ever got, being the most restrained of the children--because he was going to be a second-year. Not being an ‘ickle firstie’ anymore was one less thing his brothers could tease him about. Who knew what the twins were up to--they were their usual exuberant selves, and their whispering was cause for some alarm. There was no way to tell until their plot unfolded, unfortunately, and just try to deal with the fallout. Ron was excited because Remus had returned for dinner again, as he had promised he would, and had given Ron his full attention while the youngest boy told him the story of how the twins had tricked him into jumping into a thorn bush. He hadn’t allowed the twins to interrupt at all, and had listened attentively from beginning to end and offered his sympathies, and Ron was ecstatic.

The result was a house full of emotional, loud children. Remus’s face was more lined and pale than Arthur had ever seen it, but he smiled ruefully back at him anyway.

‘How are you holding up?’ Arthur asked during a lull in the noise--all of the boys except Bill and Percy had retreated to the living room, while Molly cleaned up in the kitchen. Ginny had gone to her room after another mention of Bill’s search for a suitable flat.

Bill looked at Remus sympathetically, but sipped his coffee and kept quiet. He’d figured out Remus’s nature as soon as the wizard arrived for dinner looking haggard and with a fresh scar, but other than a murmured word to Arthur, he hadn’t said anything. Percy sipped his tea and tried to mimic Bill’s serious expression, although it was clear he had no idea why the question seemed so loaded. Just as well, in Arthur’s opinion--they didn’t need to know the details of what the adults had to deal with until they were in Bill’s position, grown and ready to make their own way in the world. Plus, he seriously doubted that his youngest children had the maturity to deal with knowledge of Remus’s condition.

Remus’s rueful smile tightened. ‘As well as can be expected.’

Arthur lowered his gaze to his cup for a moment. ‘It’s been…a rough month, I suppose. Outside all the time for work.’

Patrolling for Dumbledore, without any relief, he meant. Remus still hadn’t complained or asked to be replaced, and Dumbledore had seemed to Arthur to be very pleased.

‘That probably contributes,’ Remus agreed.

‘Has there been any progress on--’

There was a shriek from the living room then, and Ron came running in, bearing Scabbers. Percy leapt out of his chair at the sight of his beloved pet, snatching him from Ron.

‘What have you done?!’ he cried.

‘It wasn’t my fault!’ Ron wailed, his lip quivering. ‘I tried to tell them not to do it--’

The twins scrambled back into the room.

‘He did it!’

They pointed at each other, which wasn’t helpful. Charlie followed them in, his arms folded and shaking his head.

‘They _both_ did it,’ Charlie said, rolling his eyes. ‘Ron was playing with Scabbers with a bit of string--you know how he likes that game, Percy--and they decided to turn him pink while he and Percy were separated--turn Scabbers pink, I mean, not Ron, although I wouldn’t put it past them--so they tossed up something with one of our potions kits, and now Scabbers is dead.’

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, and Percy looked outraged as he held the limp rat.

‘He’s not dead--not yet, anyway,’ Remus said quietly.

The Weasleys all looked up.

He gestured. ‘His tail is twitching. Give him here.’

Percy handed him over, and Remus laid him on his back on the table. Arthur watched as he carefully manipulated the rat’s stomach; after a tense moment, Scabbers coughed out a wad of what looked like knotgrass and Doxy eggs, and just laid there breathing, his whiskers twitching.

Arthur smiled. ‘Well done! Thank you, Remus! I--’

Several things happened at once--Remus, staring down at the rat, suddenly looked enraged, his eyes yellowing; Scabbers rolled to his feet, squeaking and scrabbling to get away; Remus snatched the rat by the scruff of his neck and stood, drawing his wand and jamming it under Scabbers’s chin.

Arthur and Bill leapt to their feet as Ron and Percy cried out in shock.

‘What in the world--?’ Arthur choked.

Remus’s voice was calm, despite his murderous expression. ‘Arthur, Bill? Could you please draw your wands and keep them trained on this rat?’

Arthur was obeying even as he asked, ‘Remus, what’s the meaning of this?’

Molly had come running out of the kitchen by then, but her protective rage quickly died as she took in the sight of Remus, Arthur and Bill surrounding Scabbers, their wands closely trained on him. The rat was frozen with terror, his beady eyes darting. The twins were fascinated by this turn of events, but Charlie had to hold back Ron and Percy from running to Scabbers’s rescue. Arthur mentally congratuled his two eldest sons--even though it was clear they were just as clueless as he was, they followed their father’s lead. He didn’t know what threat Scabbers could possibly pose, but he wasn’t willing to discount Remus’s sudden rage out of hand.

‘What’s going on?’ she demanded, half yelling and half questioning. ‘Have you all gone mad? Why are you attacking Percy’s pet?’

‘This is not a pet,’ Remus said evenly, though there was a growl edging into his voice. ‘It’s Peter Pettigrew.’

With that, he dropped the rat and flicked his wand at the same time--in an instant, where Scabbers had sat was a fat, balding man, quaking with terror as he stared down Remus’s wand.

The younger children fell silent and wide-eyed. Arthur had to force himself to stay alert and not to fall into the same stupor from total shock. Molly gaped for only a second before whipping out her own wand and jamming it in Pettigrew’s face as well, so that he was surrounded from all sides.

‘You--you’re supposed to be dead!’ Bill stammered, but to his credit, his wand hand never wavered.

Pettigrew’s eyes were round as he looked for a friendly face; Arthur was grimly satisfied knowing that he wouldn’t find one. Even the younger kids might not know what was going on, but they _did_ know that it couldn’t be good that Percy’s pet rat had just turned into a grown man.

‘I’ll call the Aurors,’ Charlie said quickly, and ran to the fireplace.

Remus’s smile was sharp. ‘Why, hello, Peter. It’s been a long time-- _old friend_.’

Pettigrew began to weep.


	20. Rumblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Malfoys explore the zoo; the Death Eaters explore their options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First: my apologies. It's been over a month and that is ridiculous. Second: thank you, so, so much, to those of you who are still sticking with this story. You must have a bit of Hufflepuff in you (and I mean that as a compliment). Third: an explanation. I have a new job. It's the first full-time job I have ever had. It has totally ruined my updating schedule, as my writing time has suffered. I intend to get better at time management so that hopefully, you won't have to wait quite this long between chapters again. I can't guarantee anything, but I do promise to try my best.
> 
> This chapter didn't work out quite as cheerfully as you might have hoped. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it. Shout-out to [Yashida](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Yashida/pseuds/Yashida) for researching the London Zoo for me--you are beautiful.
> 
> Feedback of any kind/constructive criticism are always welcome. Thank you again for reading, you gorgeous people you.

‘Good morning, Harry Potter! Happy Birthday!’

Dobby’s excited squeaking forced Harry’s eyes open. Groaning, he pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. Dobby handed him his glasses and resumed bouncing on the bed.

‘Harry Potter must be getting up now! Dobby is packing Harry Potter’s picnic basket for him, and Master and Mistress is keeping Young Master from waking Harry Potter, but he will not wait much longer! Harry Potter has a letter, too!’

‘Thanks, Dobby,’ he said, ignoring all the rest and taking the letter. He wasn’t very eager to go down and see his cousins--he was still very confused about everything, and he wanted nothing more than some time to think about it all.

‘Is it Mister Neville Longbottom again?’ Dobby asked.

Harry grinned. ‘It is! He says he has good news! His family knows for sure he’s a wizard!’ His smile faltered as he read on. ‘His great-uncle dropped him out of a window by accident and Neville bounced down the road.’

Dobby nodded sagely, his ears flapping. ‘Many wizards is bouncing for their first magics. Master bounced onto a high shelf when he was being very small, or so older elves is telling Dobby. The old Mistress took away the Master’s sweets and put them on the highest shelf, and as soon as the old Mistress was gone, Master bounced up and got them.’

Harry couldn’t help a smile at the thought of a toddler Lucius going after his sweets that way. He couldn’t imagine his dignified cousin eating sweets at all, let alone being that desperate for them.

‘Still,’ he said, forcing the smile away, ‘his great-uncle oughtn’t to have hung him out of a window in the first place. He might have died when he fell, rather than bouncing!’ He sighed, shaking his head. ‘Anyway, Neville’s family is very excited. His great-uncle says he’s going to buy him a present to celebrate.’

Dobby ducked his head at that. ‘Dobby nearly forgot--Mister Neville Longbottom sent Harry Potter a birthday present, too, but--well, Young Master ate it before the Master and Mistress could stop him. The present was being a slice of cake.’

Harry rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh. ‘Oh, Draco. You know, he’s going to weigh as much as Dudley if he doesn’t stop stealing my food.’

Dobby still didn’t understand the concept of calories, so he just nodded with an expression of puzzlement.

‘Well, thanks, anyway, Dobby. I’ll have to remember to thank Neville, even though I didn’t get to eat it.’

Harry dressed quickly (with a little unwanted help from the overly-excited Dobby, but Harry didn’t have the heart to tell him that yes, he did know how to put his socks on by himself and would prefer to do so) and headed downstairs. He had no idea what Lucius and Narcissa had told Abraxas, but they’d somehow got him to leave for the day, which was good, since Harry and Draco weren’t supposed to mention the zoo trip to him, but Harry could hear Draco chattering about it as soon as he stepped into the hallway.

‘--I think I’ll probably pet one of the tigers, although Harry says you can’t. What does he know? He’s never actually been. Anyway, he’s probably just scared. I won’t be scared, though. Tigers might be predators, but they aren’t exactly _dragons_ , are they? Do you think the Muggles feed other Muggles to the lions and tigers, since they’re predators? I mean, they have to eat something, don’t they?’

‘I highly doubt--’

Harry tried not to smile, but when Draco cut Lucius off without a pause, he couldn’t help it, as Lucius’s no-doubt exasperated expression immediately came to mind. Upon easing the door open a crack, however, his attention was diverted from Lucius’s expression to his astounding _appearance_ \--Lucius’s hair was short! He looked so clean-cut that even Uncle Vernon would have approved. He--and all of the Malfoys, in fact--were wearing _Muggle_ clothes. They almost managed to look natural about it, too, although they might have pulled it off better if Narcissa wasn’t wearing an apron over her sundress and Lucius would quit fidgeting with the sleeves of his T-shirt, tugging them downward reflexively every few minutes. Only Draco managed to look relaxed and natural, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his Muggle trousers, probably because he generally wore something similar to play in. Harry wondered where they’d got the clothes--or perhaps they had transfigured them? It must have been either Remus or Professor Snape, he realised. They were both half-bloods, so they could have told the Malfoys what to wear.

‘Of course, they could always breed zebras and feed the extras of _those_ to the lions and tigers. I’ve read about zebras. They’re boring Muggle horses with stripes. I’ll probably be allowed to ride one for a bit, I suppose. Harry could, too, but he might fall off.’

Harry couldn’t resist; he pushed the door the rest of the way open and slipped inside. ‘I didn’t fall off of Neville’s pony. Anyway, I told you, you’re not allowed to touch the animals in the zoo, only to look at them.’

Draco’s cheeks went pink. ‘Well, Longbottom probably strapped you on so you _couldn’t_ fall off.’

Lucius _had_ looked exasperated, just as Harry had thought, but now he looked amused, and nodded at Harry to continue. He laid a hand on Narcissa’s arm when she opened her mouth to intervene, and she subsided with clear reluctance. To Harry’s surprise and pleasure, she had the picnic basket that Lucius had recovered on her other arm--the one that had belonged to his mum and dad. He’d believed Dobby when he said that he had packed it (Dobby never lied, that Harry knew of), but the fact that Narcissa was willingly carrying it…it reassured him, somehow.

‘Nope. We rode bareback, actually--that means no saddles, Draco,’ he added importantly, making certain to lift his nose and sniff like Draco did when he said something particularly snobbish.

Lucius snorted and quickly covered with a cough; Narcissa hid a smile.

Draco looked between his parents and Harry with an angry expression for a moment--and then deflated, smiling sheepishly.

‘Sorry, Harry.’

Harry grinned and shook his head, waving Neville’s letter. ‘Neville’s not a Squib. He wrote to me this morning’--Draco quickly wiped the streak of icing off his mouth--‘and he did accidental magic yesterday after I left. His great-uncle dangled him out a window, and his great-aunt brought in their parts of Neville’s birthday cake, and his great-uncle dropped him--and what do you think? Neville bounced down the road!’

Lucius smiled, but Harry couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. It was too hard to tell with him at times.

Narcissa clapped enthusiastically. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful news, Harry!’

Draco’s face twisted. ‘So…he’ll be going to Hogwarts with us….’ His attempt at a smile made Harry’s mouth hurt in sympathy.

Well. That hadn’t helped him much. They could have faked it for Harry’s sake--well, except for Draco, of course. His reaction was inarguably real, and his attempt to pretend otherwise was so painfully obvious that Harry almost felt sorry for him.

‘Yes, he will--his father did, after all,’ he added, a tad bitterly.

‘Naturally,’ said Lucius, picking something off of Harry’s sleeve and tugging at the shoulder of his shirt. ‘Now, are you ready to go? Did you eat what Narcissa sent up for breakfast?’

Harry quelled the urge to move away, but couldn’t help stiffening. ‘Yes.’

It had been a light breakfast, presumably because lunch was going to be huge--or so Harry assumed, since the picnic basket was full to bursting.

‘Good, good,’ Narcissa cut in, brushing Lucius aside with a glare and taking back fussing over him herself. She even _pinched his cheek_ , and Harry pouted at her and rubbed it, though she didn’t seem to notice. ‘Let’s go, then, Harry! Time to get…zooing!’

He laughed despite himself. ‘I don’t think it’s a verb!’

She waved a hand, smiling. ‘Pish. Let’s go, shall we?’

The adults helped them use a Portkey this time, which took them to a secluded area behind a garage. It wasn’t far to walk from there, but Lucius and Narcissa’s steps slowed and their grips on him and Draco grew tighter as they got closer. Harry looked up and realised that their white faces were frozen in expressions of horror as they took in the crowds of Muggles queueing for their turn at the entry.

Grinning, he patted their hands. ‘It’s all right. We’re lucky we got here so early! C’mon, let’s get a spot in the queue before even _more_ people get here!’

Harry felt a little guilty over how delighted he was at their reactions to _that_.

They apparently had prepaid for their tickets, which Harry understood after watching Lucius sputter and squint at the signs for a while, and he guided the bewildered adults to the correct queue. It didn’t take them long to get through after that, although the clerk looked like she thought she ought to call the police and report Lucius for public drunkenness.

‘There are…so _many_ of them,’ Lucius said faintly.

Harry tugged him and Narcissa off to the side so they could recover. Draco followed with a wide grin, bouncing on his toes. He seemed oblivious to his parents’ reactions, merely taking it all in with awe and excitement.

‘Is that a gift shop? Can we go in there? Do you think they’ll sell us a tiger? Or at the very least a fox?’

‘Draco, please!’ Narcissa gasped, a hand pressed to her chest and her eyes darting.

Harry frowned, laying a hand on her arm. ‘You’ve seen Muggles before…haven’t you?’

The contact seemed to calm her, and her eyes lost some of their wildness. ‘Yes…. Of course, Harry, but I never knew how many of them there were! I’d only seen them with their children, in Diagon Alley, buying school supplies.’

‘Oh, there’s millions of Muggles,’ Harry said casually, eyeing them carefully. He couldn’t help it--he really wanted to know if they had been Death Eaters, like Narcissa’s sister, and Lucius’s father. He was too afraid to ask--but if they had been, wouldn’t they hate Muggles?

They both paled again.

‘Millions?’ Lucius repeated breathily.

Well, that wasn’t very helpful, either. Shock didn’t tell him for sure either way. From what he’d seen of Diagon Alley, there weren’t millions of wizards (it was mostly crowded because it seemed to be designed to be cramped), so even a non-Muggle-hating, non-Death-Eater wizard might react like that when he saw large crowds of Muggles for the first time.

‘Yep.’

Draco was growing impatient again. ‘We’re not here to see the Muggles, we’re here to see the _tigers_! Can we go now, _please_? I can’t see _anything_ over here!’

Harry watched as the adults exchanged a glance and made a visible effort to recover. He tried not to flinch when Lucius took his hand--fortunately, Lucius was still too off-kilter to notice.

‘Of course.’

‘We’re sorry, boys, let’s get out the map the clerk gave us,’ Narcissa said with slightly forced cheer.

The day improved from there, to the point that Harry almost forgot about watching them for signs of Muggle-hating. He mostly had to lead the way, as Lucius and Narcissa both got lost and upset in the crowds several times--Draco helped him herd them back out of the snarl of people and sort out the direction again, and then Harry would continue to lead them on. He had never seen the pair of them so out of their element, and it wasn’t long before he grew tired of the bewildered, helpless looks on their faces. Harry promised himself that he’d never make them come to a Muggle place again.

In his careful scrutiny, though, he _did_ note that they both looked curious and thoughtful several times when they calmed down enough to observe the Muggles around them. It was especially notable at lunch, when they sat in a grassy area on the chequered blanket and unloaded the massive amount of food Dobby had sent along--while they were eating, their eyes drifted to the other families at picnic tables or sitting on blankets. One boy, in particular, caught Lucius’s eye, mostly because of how loudly he was whining about not being hungry and wanting to go see the bears, Harry thought. He reminded Harry of Draco--who seemed to also note the other boy, and very carefully kept his voice down and didn’t whine through the whole meal.

‘They’re not… _very_ different from us, are they?’ Narcissa said after they’d eaten more than was probably wise.

Harry’s gut reaction was to take the opportunity to interrogate her, but she looked so puzzled yet pleased by the notion that he stopped and thought for a moment.

‘Well, no, not really. I mean, they’ve got a lot of different customs and stu--things, and they dress differently from wizards. But we’re all British, aren’t we? It’s almost like…like we live in a county that’s really hard to get to, that’s all, and it’s a bit behind the times, but people like it because it’s good for tourism,’ Harry said, although that last part was something he’d heard Uncle Vernon say when he was complaining about the state of the country. If Uncle Vernon disapproved, that probably meant it would be all right with the Malfoys.

Narcissa blinked at him for a moment, then slowly nodded. ‘I see,’ she said, but it was pretty plain that she didn’t.

Lucius didn’t seem to get it, either, but his thoughtful expression remained.

The animals varied in their levels of entertainment. The gorillas made Lucius’s jaw drop for a moment, which at least afforded the boys some amusement, although the gorillas themselves were sleeping, so that wasn’t much fun. Some of the birds had babies, so their cages were pretty much impossible to get close to. Harry got to see the geese, though, which made him happy. They were in different colours and patterns than the wild geese in the lake at home, and they seemed to like Harry, because they didn’t flap away to the far corner when he walked up to the fence like they did when other kids approached.

Draco was very disappointed in the tigers, as they were dead asleep, just as Dudley had described them--they lay stretched out on a concrete pad, one showing its belly to the sun and the other half-hugging that one, and neither showed any signs of moving any time soon.

He blinked at them for a while, standing on tiptoe and clutching at the top rung of the fence that kept the crowds from getting too close to the enclosure. When he dropped back to his feet, he immediately turned to Harry.

‘Is that all they do? Sleep all day?’

Harry shrugged. ‘Well, they’re cats, yeah?’

Draco considered that for a moment, then sighed. ‘Yeah.’

The bears were a little more exciting for him, though--one of them was sitting and scratching its belly as it looked at the crowds, sleepily smacking its lips, and Draco seemed to find that hilarious. The elephants were standing around eating, but the fact that they were awake and doing something seemed to satisfy him as well. Harry was just glad to see any of the animals, awake or asleep, and he was relieved that the adult Malfoys in tow seemed to finally be adjusting to weaving through crowds without getting stuck or run over.

However, in Harry’s experience, nothing good would stay that way forever, and things took a turn for the worse near the end of the day out--although he wasn’t quite sure why.

They stopped for ice cream at Draco’s insistence (although he claimed it was Harry that wanted it, and Harry certainly had no objection!), and after they’d eaten them, they headed to the reptile house.

‘We can’t leave without seeing the snakes!’ Draco cried when Narcissa suggested that perhaps they were all tired and ready to go home. ‘It would be an insult to Slytherin House!’

Harry rolled his eyes--he somehow doubted that Slytherin House would know or care if they saw the snakes or not.

Lucius sighed. ‘All right, but after that, we’re heading home. It will be closing time soon anyway, and we have to get home before your grandfather so we have time to change.’

‘Oh, all right,’ Draco sighed.

Harry couldn’t help but smile--Draco, despite knowing that he would not be able to brag about the experience as he’d hoped, had seemed to enjoy the zoo even more than Harry. Of course, he hadn’t spent most of his day saving Lucius from being trampled, either.

They walked into the reptile house together, but it wasn’t long before Draco had dragged his mother away, practically yipping with excitement, as there was a lizard climbing a branch in a cage at the other end. Harry shook his head and went more sedately along the row of glass-fronted cages, Lucius at his elbow. He didn’t particularly feel like talking to his cousin right now, so he focused on the occupants of the cages.

‘If Draco was looking for motion, this wasn’t the place to find it,’ Lucius said dryly after passing four still, coiled snakes and statue-like lizards.

Harry stopped in front of a motionless python. ‘No, I guess not.’ He looked closer at the python. ‘What kind do you think it is?’

To his surprise, the python lifted its head and _looked_ at him. Harry gasped, his eyes popping wide.

‘You can hear me?’

The python’s tongue flickered in and out, and it gave a little nod.

Harry looked up at Lucius, who had not answered--and stepped back from his cousin’s white, shocked face.

Lucius’s hand shot out like lightning and latched onto Harry’s arm.

‘Wha--?’

Lucius didn’t answer, dragging him outside and looking around quickly. He found a relatively secluded spot in a corner of the building and pushed Harry into it.

‘Lucius, what’s going--’

His cousin dropped to a crouch in front of him, and he was staring so seriously into Harry’s eyes that Harry fell silent, trembling a little.

‘Harry. You were _talking_ to a _snake_ ,’ Lucius said, lowly and urgently.

Slowly, Harry nodded. ‘Yes….’

Lucius searched his expression again, but Harry didn’t know what he was looking for.

‘Have you ever done that before?’

Harry shook his head quickly. ‘No, sir!’

His grip was starting to hurt, but Harry didn’t dare say so. Lucius had been worried about things before, but Harry had never seen him like this--almost _afraid_ \--and it was scaring him.

‘Never do it again, Harry. You must never, _ever_ speak to snakes--especially not in front of other people, no matter who they are. But even alone, you never know who may be watching, or listening….’ Lucius glanced around again, but there were only a few concerned Muggle adults watching them from afar, the rest going about their business. ‘Promise me, Harry-- _never_ to speak to a snake again.’

He had no idea why _this_ was so important--usually, he understood Lucius’s worries, after they were explained, but this time, he didn’t understand why speaking to a snake was so wrong. Was it a taboo of some kind among wizards? Regardless, it was obviously bad enough to frighten Lucius, and despite Harry’s doubts, he still trusted his cousin.

‘Yes, sir. I promise. I won’t…I won’t speak to a snake again.’

Lucius immediately relaxed, his grip loosening, and his eyes even slipped shut for a moment. ‘Good. Good. I’m glad.’

He rose to his feet and patted Harry’s shoulder, and slowly began to turn to normal. That made Harry feel better about the whole thing--speaking to snakes must be really, _really_ bad, whatever the reason, to scare Lucius worse than the Muggles. He hadn’t looked that pale since he told Harry about the Dark Lord the first night he came to the Malfoys, and promising not to speak to snakes had immediately relieved him.

‘Let’s collect Draco and Narcissa, shall we?’

Harry nodded and forced a smile, and that seemed to make Lucius even happier, because he took Harry’s hand and smiled so naturally that his eyes crinkled at the corners.

.

\--------------

.

Harry was exhausted when they got home, so he easily acquiesced to Lucius and Narcissa’s suggestions that both boys head upstairs and get ready for dinner, and perhaps rest a while. Draco was barely tired at all, though, so he was more reluctant, and chattered on and on as they headed up the stairs.

‘And did you see when the fox looked _right at_ me?’

‘Yes, Draco, I was there.’

‘It was brilliant--it was like it knew me! And there was this chimpanzee who wouldn’t stop scratching his bum--’

‘Yes, Draco, I was there.’

Draco did not heed him. Harry scowled as he shed his Muggle clothes, as Draco’s voice carried from his own room.

‘You _do_ remember we’re not supposed to talk about it, right?’ he called as he tugged his favourite robe off its hanger.

Draco ignored him. ‘And the penguins were _so funny_! They held their flippers out like _this_ , and--’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Dobby!’

CRACK! ‘Mister Harry Potter is back from his zoo!’

‘Yes, Dobby--and Draco wants to tell you all about it,’ Harry said, forcing a smile.

Dobby blinked his large eyes, looking through the adjoining door at the still-talking other boy.

‘Young Master wants…to _talk_ to Dobby?’ he asked uncertainly.

Harry nodded. ‘Oh, yes--he’s just dying to tell someone about the zoo, and I was there, and you know we’re not allowed to tell anyone else, so he’d like to tell you about it.’

The house-elf didn’t quite look convinced, but after wringing his hands in his tea towel once, he nodded and hopped off the bed and shuffled into Harry’s sitting room. With one last glance back at Harry, he crossed into Draco’s sitting room.

‘Dobby!’ Draco cried as soon as he spotted him, running out of the bedroom to stop in front of him.

Dobby flinched.

‘You won’t _believe_ what we saw today! There were gorillas, and tigers--they were sleeping, so that was no fun--but there were also birds of all kinds--’

He was off again with no encouragement. Dobby gaped, but Draco didn’t notice that, either. He bounced onto one of his couches and his mouth kept moving. Harry closed the adjoining door with a sigh of relief, and dragged himself back to his bed. His eyes closed without his permission, and he was done for the day.

.

\-----------------------

.

‘I must go to Severus,’ Lucius said as soon as the boys were out of earshot, crossing to grab a handful of Floo powder. ‘Keep guard.’

Narcissa’s eyes widened. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ll explain when I return.’

Narcissa caught his arm when he drew it back to throw the powder. ‘Tell me now. Something happened in the reptile house--I saw you drag Harry out. _What happened?_ ’

He drew a long breath. He considered her pursed lips, her strained expression, the worry in her eyes--there was no point in lecturing her, once again, that Harry wasn’t their son, not when his own heart felt like it was trying to jump out his throat and his stomach was so twisted he wasn’t certain he’d be able to even pretend to eat at dinner. He’d been surprised to find he’d stopped shaking after Harry’s promise.

He had intended to speak to Harry, and then the rest of his family, about the possibility of adopting Harry after dinner, but now he was too shaken up. He wanted to be utterly calm and focused so he could read Harry’s reactions. It would have to wait.

And then there was the revelation in the reptile house. He didn’t feel he should do anything so drastic until he’d had Severus’s take on the situation.

Lucius drew a breath. ‘Harry speaks Parseltongue.’

Narcissa turned white, her hand dropping from his arm and flying to her throat. ‘He--’ Her voice caught. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘I made him promise never to talk to a snake again.’ He shook his head minutely. ‘I don’t think he understood.’

‘He didn’t know he was speaking Parseltongue?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He was looking at the snake but talking to me, I think.’

Narcissa’s expression reflected his own worries. Slowly, she nodded, stepping back.

‘Go to Severus,’ she agreed quietly. ‘I hope he understands this, as I most certainly do not. I thought that ability died with--’ She stopped; they both knew whom she meant.

Lucius touched her shoulder and mustered a smile. ‘I don’t understand it, either, but Severus will. I’m sure of it. He’s made a study of this sort of thing, after all.’

Her expression eased slightly, and she touched his fingers. With a nod, he released her and Flooed through to Severus.

Spinner’s End was just as dark and dusty as he remembered from a visit quite a few years ago now, but Severus was ever so slightly more welcoming--his password wasn’t ‘idiot,’ anyway. Instead, he’d gone with ‘nobody’s home.’ Lucius might have found this amusing under different circumstances, since Severus would need to say the password to invite someone through, and the fact that he’d spoken and entrance had been granted gave away the fact that someone _was_ home. Right now, he was too worried to be amused--and he was too worried to indulge Severus’s love of banter.

‘No, I don’t want any tea, and I don’t want to sit, and I don’t care about the dust,’ Lucius interrupted his sneered greeting. ‘Harry is a Parselmouth.’

The sneer fell from Severus’s sallow face, which had suddenly paled several shades, and whatever he’d been about to say died in his throat.

‘I’ve extracted his promise never to speak to a snake again, but….’ He shook his head. ‘What if someone finds out? He could be in danger. What if _Abraxas_ finds out?’

The very thought filled him with stomach-twisting horror. His father would take Harry to be the Dark Lord’s spiritual successor or some such nonsense and lock him away to indoctrinate and worship him, and….

Well, it didn’t bear thinking of. Harry wasn’t the next Dark Lord, and a stray ability to speak to snakes was not a sign that he would become one. It was likely a mutation--or perhaps a Potter, far, far back in Harry’s ancestry, had married a Parselmouth descendant of Slytherin, and it hadn’t resurfaced until now. It was possible. It happened with Metamorphmagi from time to time.

This was really why he’d come. He wanted another voice to reassure him that this was probably the case, and that nothing was going to happen because no one who wished Harry harm was going to find out….

Severus had recovered from his shock while Lucius was busy panicking and rationalising, and there was a calculating gleam in his dark eyes now. One long white finger traced his thin lower lip as he thought. Lucius suddenly wondered if he’d made a bad choice in coming here.

‘I think you’re overreacting,’ Severus said slowly. ‘If you’ve made Potter promise not to speak to snakes, then that is the end of it.’

Lucius leaned away from him, not nearly as comforted as he wished to be. ‘Then why do you look as though you’re plotting a murder?’

‘That’s just my face.’

‘I’m used to your mug. You’re very obviously plotting.’

Severus dropped his hand from his mouth and clasped both hands behind his back, pacing away a few steps. ‘I’m not plotting. I’m thinking.’ He paused, whirling on his heel to face Lucius again. ‘Dumbledore has a theory. His interaction with Potter has been far too limited to allow any testing, but he believes that there may be…a connection between Potter and the Dark Lord.’

Terror, so sharp his breath caught from the pain in his chest.

‘No.’

Severus’s brow wrinkled. ‘No?’

‘No.’ He groped for words, an unfamiliar feeling to him. ‘It’s not possible. Harry is too…unspoiled. There is nothing of the Dark Lord about him.’

‘It has nothing to do with his personality, and denying the possibility does you no credit,’ Severus snapped, gesturing sharply with one hand, as though to cut Lucius’s words from the air. ‘How else do you explain his speaking to a snake when neither of his parents possessed the ability?’

‘It could have skipped a few generations,’ Lucius said, setting his jaw.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Or thirty. If you won’t even entertain the theory, there’s--’

‘I won’t. The only link between Harry and the Dark Lord is that scar. It’s a mark, a blemish, nothing more.’

Severus raised a brow. ‘Then simply speak of it to no one else and hold the boy to his promise. There is nothing else I can say.’

Lucius scowled and turned away, back to the fireplace. ‘I don’t know why I bother with you, sometimes.’

‘Because you couldn’t tell your arse from a hole in the ground without my advice, I expect,’ Severus said dryly.

But he was still not in a teasing humour, and left without an answering volley.

.

\-------------------

.

Elinor Parkinson finished offering her platter of finger sandwiches to their house full of guests, levitating it to the sideboard when the last of them selected or declined. Calmly, she settled into her armchair in the corner of the parlour. Almost immediately, everyone in the room seemed to forget she was there, partly because the corner position placed her outside of the circle, and partly because of the subtle charms she had put on the chair to make it so. She had found over the years that men’s tongues tended to loosen when they forgot about her presence. It had been to her advantage several times since her somewhat hasty marriage to Peyton.

‘As I was saying,’ Peyton said importantly, ‘this situation with Malfoy has gone on long enough. He’s got to be stopped!’

He banged his fist on his armrest theatrically as he said this, upsetting his teacup, and spent such a long time cleaning it up that some of their guests started rolling their eyes and checking their watches. Peyton noticed and started to sweat.

It wasn’t often he managed to attract some of the Dark Lord’s most trusted Death Eaters into his home, and yet here sat a dozen of them, plus a few unmarked supporters whom Peyton considered friends. Other than the supporters on his own level, he was desperate to impress them, Elinor knew--especially Evan Rosier’s father. One of the Dark Lord’s original supporters, Mr Rosier had been openly devastated by the death of his son, and rarely made public appearances. The Ministry had interpreted his seclusion as shock and dismay over Evan’s involvement with the Dark Lord, and assumed he was innocent.

Everyone here knew differently--he’d been very proud of his son and his contributions to the cause. It was only the end of his line that had shocked and dismayed him, as Evan had died without any issue, save a daughter got on a half-goblin whore on Knockturn Alley, but she didn’t count.

‘First, he figures out where the Boy Who Lived is and doesn’t bother to tell any of us, and now he’s extending one of our _privileges_ \--nay, our _rights_!--to half-bloods and those thieving Muggle scum that dare to call themselves wizards?!’

There were a few murmurs of agreement, and a furrow appeared on Mr Rosier’s brow.

‘And what would you have us do?’ Yaxley spoke up from his slumped position by the hearth. Elinor suspected he was intoxicated, given his disheveled state. ‘Storm Malfoy Manor and kill them all? Why don’t we take Hogwarts and Gringotts, while we’re at it?’

Even the cowards and idiots, like Macnair and Crabbe and Goyle, looked disturbed by that notion.

Only Matteo Zabini was smirking pleasantly--not unusual. Something about the Italian blood, Elinor had always thought. It allowed him to remain unflappable and perpetually amused in most situations. Of course, it also bestowed a nasty vindictiveness when roused that caught the unwary by surprise. Elinor had never been unwary, not since she was a young girl at Hogwarts.

‘An excellent plan, Peyton,’ Matteo said brightly. ‘Then, we can _all_ \--those of us who don’t die in the attempt, I mean--go to Azkaban to rejoin our comrades! The Dark Lord will be so _pleased_ that we broke our cover in a fruitless effort to kill the Boy Who Lived.’

The entire room chilled at the mention of their absent master. Elinor couldn’t suppress a shudder.

‘Whether we survived it and were arrested or were killed in the attempt, our absence would leave Lucius with a free hand to do as he pleases,’ Yaxley agreed, giving Matteo an uncharacteristically friendly nod.

‘And above all,’ Mr Rosier said abruptly, ‘we must be free and present when the Dark Lord returns, ready and able to serve him. He will instruct us about the Boy Who Lived when he returns--until then, he must not be touched--save by Abraxas. It is his family, after all. He has first rights to the boy’s blood.’

If anyone else had said it, there might have been argument. With this audience, however, and the lack of the other elder Death Eaters, heads were bowed and the words were accepted as a solemn command.

‘But we can’t just let Lucius continue to destroy our traditions and ways!’ Peyton said in a thin voice, trying to recapture the spotlight.

‘No, but there are other ways to keep him from doing any more damage in the future,’ said Yaxley. ‘He’s been paying off people in the Ministry to get his policies pushed through--we find out who they are and pay them double what he’s paying them.’

Macnair went white. ‘ _Double_?’

Yaxley’s eyes slitted. ‘It will, of course, be hard on all of us, but it’ll be easier if we _all_ chip in.’

‘And Hogwarts?’ Peyton asked miserably, wilting as he became aware that he’d lost his opportunity.

‘We got him appointed. We just won’t renew our support this school year. That will finish him as a governor in September. If he loses that, and our support of his businesses, it won’t be long before his power base crumbles.’

That left only a month for Lucius to do anything else. Most of the assembled seemed pleased with that plan--only Goyle and Nott seemed troubled. In the case of Nott, everyone understood his silence and distraction of late, and forgave it easily. In the case of Goyle…well, Elinor knew they all assumed he was just now catching up to what the original problem had been. She wasn’t so sure--Goyle had been a good listener when she used him as her personal agony aunt for her first few years of Hogwarts, and he hadn’t ever seemed to have trouble keeping up with her sobbing tales of mistreatment and woe. Still, she couldn’t have guessed his thoughts then, and she certainly couldn’t guess them now, when it had been upwards of five years since they last spoke.

Mr Rosier issued another stern warning to do nothing that might cause them to be unavailable when the Dark Lord had need of them (don’t get arrested, in other words), and after some small talk, it wasn’t long before the guests dispersed, murmuring amongst themselves.

Peyton’s clothes were soggy with sweat and his face was sagging with disappointment and misery after they had all gone.

‘I think that went rather well,’ Elinor said placidly as she began gathering up teacups.

Peyton’s attempt at a withering glare amused her greatly.

For her, it _had_ gone well. She had been undecided since the beginning of this whole affair which side was the winning one. She had a daughter to think of, so whatever she chose, it had to ensure her daughter’s future. Pansy had been the centre of Elinor’s life since she was born; every choice she made was for her. Some choices had not been as wise as others, she thought with a glance at Peyton. This time, though, she was more certain. She knew what path she had to take to keep Pansy safe.

.

\---------------

.

Lucius was expecting to return to a quiet house preparing for dinner, so he was extremely surprised to find Narcissa guarding two bewildered boys and an oblivious, panting dog in the space under the staircase. Her wand was in her hand and her eyes were wild, flyaway hairs giving her a slightly deranged look that reminded him of Bellatrix and made him shudder.

‘Are you all right?’ he demanded, striding over to them. ‘What’s happened? Is it--’

Narcissa pulled out the _Evening Prophet_ and handed it to him.

Lucius read the headline and the blood drained from his face.

_Sirius Black Exonerated!_

‘He’s at the Ministry, supposedly,’ Narcissa said hoarsely, running a hand through her hair and mussing it further.

Lucius closed his eyes and willed his heart to stop pounding.

A man could only take so many shocks in one day.


	21. Sirius Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black forces several actions forward; tensions are high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot stuff. Hopefully you'll enjoy it.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and special thanks to anyone who comments. Feedback of any kind is always welcome. :)

Lucius sent the boys upstairs with Butch--he still wasn’t certain what had prompted Narcissa to bring him in, but his presence seemed to help keep the boys calm. He had no desire to explain this to them, at least not now. Narcissa was in accord with him on the subject, for the first time in a long time.

‘We had at least better wait to explain it to them until _we_ understand what’s happening,’ she said wryly.

He offered a curt nod. ‘Did they eat dinner?’

Narcissa pouted. ‘Yes, but Harry was right in the midst of opening his presents when that dratted paper came! Perhaps it will be better if he finishes tomorrow, though. He was asleep when I went to fetch them for dinner, and he seemed very tired throughout, so he wasn’t enjoying it very much.’

‘Yes, he can finish opening them at breakfast,’ Lucius said impatiently. ‘I should fetch Severus. He--’

‘MALFOY!’ thundered out of the entrance hall.

Lucius smiled tightly. ‘Speak of the devil….’

Severus came storming into view, his cloak whipping, his face red, his eyes wild. He was clutching a copy of the _Evening Prophet_.

‘Have you seen this?!’ he demanded, spit flying.

Lucius delicately took out his handkerchief and wiped it from his face. ‘Yes, we have seen it, Severus.’

‘That--that--that--’ Severus sputtered a bit more before letting out an explosive noise of frustration and beginning to pace in sharp, angry motions.

Narcissa’s brows rose and she quietly excused herself, ignoring Lucius’s glare and slipping up the stairs.

Abandoned to deal with the agitated half-blood himself, Lucius cast about for something to say.

‘If he really _is_ innocent, Severus, then we--’

‘Innocent!’ Severus scoffed. ‘Innocent of being a Death Eater spy?! Naturally! It was preposterous to ever think otherwise! The Black family’s reputation notwithstanding, I’ve never understood why the Ministry ever believed such a _Gryffindor_ , such a staunchly _anti-pure-blood_ Gryffindor could ever join the Dark Lord’s cause!’

‘Well, he _is_ a Black….’

Severus ignored him, continuing his rant.

‘But innocent?! Sirius Black is many things, but I should never apply the word “ _innocent_ ” to the likes of him! He has never been innocent a day in his life!’

Lucius pursed his lips. ‘I know you feuded with him at school.’

Severus snorted mightily, and Lucius was grateful that he was several yards away.

‘ _Feuded_. Such a word implies equality! There was none in my dealings with him! Him and _Potter_ , I should say! It was always the two of them!’ He sneered, acquiring a mocking falsetto. ‘Give him a chance, Severus! He’s changed, since you were boys! Both of you have!’ He dropped the falsetto with a growl. ‘Oh, I’ve changed, all right--I’ve learnt not to let blackguards like Sirius Black get the drop on me!’

Lucius rolled his eyes. ‘ _Really_ , Severus….’

He turned with such a ferocious glower that Lucius had to will himself not to step back. ‘And what of Lupin? What does your pet werewolf think of his nearest, dearest friend’s innocence? I suppose he ran off to find him as soon as he heard?’

‘I’ve no idea. I don’t even know if he knows. I came home from speaking with you, and not five minutes later, you arrived. I’d only just found out myself.’

‘Hadn’t you better check?’

Lucius raised a brow. ‘I’m not bringing him in here so you can kill him. I rather like having a werewolf patrolling my grounds.’

Honestly, he was trying to maintain his cool, but Severus’s wild fury was making him more than a little nervous. He’d forgotten how deeply Sirius Black and James Potter had always been able to get under Severus’s skin.

‘I’m not going to kill him,’ Severus scoffed. ‘Just maim him.’

‘Lupin hasn’t done anything to deserve maiming, and as I said, I like having a werewolf guard. I’ll speak with him later-- _alone_.’

He didn’t allow his expression to change when Severus scowled at him, his wand hand rubbing against his pocket.

‘Fine,’ Severus said, conceding with bad grace. ‘I’ll just go scream at Dumbledore some more--for all the good it will do.’

Lucius tilted his head. ‘How is he taking the news?’

‘Pretty well, considering that he’s partly responsible for Black’s imprisonment. I think he’s pleased because Black’s claim to Potter outranks yours.’

The blood drained from Lucius’s face and he swayed. He hadn’t even had time to consider _that_.

That, at last, seemed to please Severus, who smirked and excused himself.

.

\--------------------

.

The adults were all busy and upset ever since the newspaper came, with the exception of Remus, so Harry and Draco spent much of the next day showing him Harry’s new presents. Well, _Draco_ kept showing them off--Harry understood without it being said that Remus couldn’t afford to buy him anything, so he felt rather embarrassed about showing him all the other presents he’d received. It didn’t help that there were around fifty of them. The new clothes he understood--he seemed to be growing an inch a day, according to Narcissa--but a lot of the others seemed ridiculous. He already had loads of toys and books, and if his cousins gave him this much stuff for _every_ birthday, it would only be another year or two before they would need a second playroom to store all of them.

He didn’t want to seem ungrateful, though, so he had just bashfully thanked Narcissa at breakfast and endured her fussing.

Even Remus seemed distracted, despite agreeing to watch them for the day. Harry noticed right away, and eventually Draco noticed that he wasn’t receiving quite the awe and admiration that he clearly believed he should.

‘What’s wrong, Remus?’ he demanded, putting aside Harry’s new marble chess set. ‘Why is everyone so upset? Mother wouldn’t tell us last night, and she keeps hiding the newspapers when they come. What’s going on? _Who’s_ at the Ministry?’

Remus smiled grimly. ‘I’m not certain I should tell you. If your parents don’t want you to know--’

‘Then tell me,’ Harry cut in. He was burning with curiosity, and a guilty part of him didn’t quite trust that his cousins were hiding something from him for good reasons…. ‘They’re not _my_ parents.’

Draco shot him a betrayed, hurt look, and Harry felt another pang of guilt. He couldn’t help it, though--he still hadn’t figured this whole thing out, and whether they were good or bad, and how much being kind to _him_ counted for if they’d been awful to other people, and his head and his heart both hurt every time he thought of it all, so he tried not to, but that just made it worse because putting off thinking about it made him think about it _more_.

Remus considered them for a moment, his perpetually tired face seeming so desolate that Harry was on the verge of telling him to forget he’d said anything when he finally spoke.

‘All right--perhaps it would do more harm than good to keep it from you anyway. You’ll have to find out sooner or later, after all,’ he added, and he seemed grieved by the notion.

Harry was very confused, and he could see that Draco was no less so.

‘Peter Pettigrew was found, alive.’

‘But he’s supposed to be dead!’ Harry said reflexively.

Remus nodded, idly poking one of their toy dragons until it nipped him. ‘Yes, he was supposed to be dead. He was hiding in his Animagus form, that of a rat. He had apparently cut off his finger to make it _appear_ that he was dead and slipped away in rat form.’

‘That was stupid,’ Draco said with a snort. ‘Who cuts off their own finger? Crazy Gryffindors.’

Remus raised a brow and refrained from comment. ‘So, as it turns out, _he_ was a Death Eater spy, _not_ Sirius Black. Sirius Black is innocent, and was released from Azkaban yesterday morning.’

‘So Pettigrew framed him? That’s a rotten thing to do!’ Draco paused. ‘Unless there’s a profit in it. So I guess that makes sense--no one wants to go to Azkaban.’

Harry frowned--this realigned much of what he’d heard about Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black. Although, he’d kind of assumed they were both dead, so most of the adjusting had to do with realising they were both alive, and that apparently everyone had been blaming the wrong one for his parents’ deaths.

‘Are we going to be allowed to see him?’ he asked after a moment.

Remus shook his head. ‘I’m not certain, Harry. It may depend on what the healers have to say. Azkaban is not a pleasant place to be, and Sirius--’ His voice caught and he swallowed. ‘Sirius may need some time to heal before he’s ready for visitors.’

Harry eyed Remus thoughtfully. ‘He was a good friend to you and my parents.’

‘Yes…yes, he was.’ His lips tightened. ‘More than I knew.’

‘Are you going to see him?’ Draco asked with more cheer than Harry thought necessary. ‘Since you were friends and you know he wasn’t the one who killed your other friends, you’ve got lots of catching up to do, and he’ll probably be happy to see you.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Remus said softly.

Harry’s brows knit. ‘You couldn’t have known--I mean, nobody else knew, did they? Not even the Ministry. I’m sure they’re not happy they put the wrong person in prison for six years, right? Pettigrew fooled everybody, so Sirius can’t be too angry with you, can he?’

He tried to force a smile but failed miserably. ‘No, I suppose not. I’ll try in a day or two, after you two are being looked after again.’

Harry doubted that, but Draco seemed satisfied.

‘Well, good, then,’ he said brightly. ‘Now, the next present Harry got was a box of chocolate frogs, but I’m afraid we ate most of them to get to the cards. There are still a few left that we took out of their wrappings last night, if you want them, although they’re a bit stale and melty, and the spell’s worn off, of course….’

Harry tuned him out again, glumly watching Remus and wondering why everyone was still so upset about Sirius Black if he really was innocent.

.

\-------------------

.

Dumbledore could not exactly be termed ‘happy’ as he made his way through the halls of the Ministry. He was headed toward the Child Welfare Office, where he would turn in the envelope currently tucked in the pocket of his robes. It seemed to weigh heavier than it should have--so, too, did the memory of Sirius Black’s haunted eyes, his lean, haggard face. The staff at St Mungo’s had done admirably in cleaning him up, but it would still be several months before his condition could be called healthy.

He had failed Sirius terribly. He’d told the poor young man so, apologised for being so ready to believe him guilty that he had not objected to the Ministry’s refusal to give him a trial.

‘It’s nothing,’ Sirius had said brusquely, looking away. ‘It’s over and done with. All that matters now is Harry.’

Dumbledore had agreed-- _did_ agree. Harry’s safety and wellbeing were paramount. He was determined not to fail Harry as he had failed Sirius. To that end, he had called on Kingsley and Alastor and collected what they had on Lucius Malfoy’s more unsavoury ‘business ventures.’ He _must_ prise Harry from the Malfoys.

Perhaps not to send him to the Dursleys after all. Due to Sirius’s proven innocence, Dumbledore doubted his own judgement--and he owed Sirius something for his suffering. It would be good for him to take Harry in--give him something bright to focus on, rather than his memories of Azkaban. Part of him still felt that Harry would be safer with the Dursleys, but Sirius had the legal and moral right to raise his godson. Dumbledore couldn’t ask for a fiercer, more alert guardian, either. The chances of a Death Eater getting within a mile of Harry were slim with Sirius. In fact, the boy might be fortunate to be allowed outside at all, and Sirius would undoubtedly ward his chosen property until its security rivalled that of Hogwarts or Gringotts.

Still…another, much smaller part of Dumbledore felt guilty about what he was doing. Harry must _not_ stay with the Malfoys, but surely there were other ways of taking the boy from them? Perhaps he could simply wait and allow Sirius to put in his legal claim…it wouldn’t be long after that….

But no. This was about more than just taking Harry from them--it was about shaking Lucius’s hold on the Ministry, loosening his grip so that his power over it would weaken. Sullying his name, even by creating _rumours_ of evidence of wrongdoing, would accomplish that to some extent in addition to hastening the Ministry’s decision to take Harry from them.

With this in mind, he steeled himself and walked into the Administrator’s office.

.

\-------------------

.

Later that afternoon, Lucius sat before the Administrator’s desk, watching as she grimly flipped through a sheaf of papers.

‘It…doesn’t look good for you, Mr Malfoy,’ she said at last, setting aside her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘I’m sorry--I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this, but…there isn’t time to investigate Professor Dumbledore’s claims against you. Not now, with Mr Black freed from Azkaban. It won’t take the Ministry long to declare his innocence officially, and after that it won’t be long for him to file his legal claim for Harry Potter. As you are aware, his legal claim supersedes yours.’

Lucius swallowed and gripped the head of his cane until he couldn’t feel his fingers. ‘I understand. However, I still wish to move forward with process, as does my wife, even if it is…futile.’

She nodded slowly. He couldn’t bear her pitying expression and looked away, pressing his lips together in what he hoped conveyed irritation and nothing else.

‘Very well, Mr Malfoy. I will schedule the interviews with you and Mr Potter as soon as possible--at your convenience, of course.’

He inclined his head and made his excuses to leave shortly after that. He was numb with a horrifying sense of hopeless, helpless defeat. Black’s release was the worst thing he could have imagined--and worse, he _hadn’t_ imagined it. In his wildest dreams, he hadn’t expected Sirius Black to be declared innocent and set free. He hadn’t prepared for it at all. It had only begun to sink in this morning, when Narcissa demanded to know if her cousin was planning to remove Harry immediately, or if he would wait for some unknown design of his own, and if Lucius would go to see him and try to persuade him to join their cause.

Lucius had made the attempt, but Aurors had barred the way at St Mungo’s--the Ministry was taking no chances that Sirius could be hurt in any way, or worse, escape their custody and go blabbing to the press. He would anyway, sooner or later, but the Ministry clearly hoped to push it to later, much, much later, after the public had lost interest in Sirius’s sudden, miraculous release. As it was, it was all anyone could talk about.

He didn’t want to talk about it--he didn’t want to think about it. All he wanted to do was to go home and bury himself in his work, to take his mind off of everything.

He made it home, but he couldn’t work once he was there--Elinor Parkinson was standing in his office waiting for him.

‘Elinor?’

She turned from the window with a tentative smile. ‘Lucius. I hope you don’t mind--Narcissa told me I could wait here. She seemed a bit distracted.’

Lucius stayed by the door. ‘She is attempting to gain access to Sirius Black through her own contacts. I was unsuccessful.’

‘Ah.’

Elinor moved to his chair and gracefully sat, arranging her robes just so. She pulled off her gloves methodically, one finger at a time, and then folded them neatly in her lap. She had always been meticulous in word and behaviour--Lucius found it disproportionately irritating.

He thumped his cane on the floor. ‘What do you want, Elinor?’

She raised a thin brow, pursing her lips. ‘Your patience runs short these days, Lucius. I remember a time when you could have waited until the sun went cold.’

‘These are trying days,’ he said icily, his jaw tightening. ‘What do you want?’

She didn’t answer immediately. Lucius waited, watching her impassive face, certain that she was making him wait as punishment for his impatience.

‘The promise of sanctuary.’

Lucius blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

She swiped at her upturned nose, an uncharacteristic gesture, and lowered her eyes. ‘I want you to promise me that if anything happens that you have reason to believe may put my daughter in danger, you will take her in and protect her.’

‘Pansy?’ He struggled not to curl his lip in disgust as he tried to assimilate this request. ‘Why do you require such a promise? Do _you_ have reason to believe she’s in danger? And what about you?’

He wasn’t certain he could handle Pansy Parkinson on her own, without her parents to act as a buffer--the idea that she might come to _him_ with her whining was unbearable. He had debated steering his son toward marrying her because of her bloodline (pure but not too closely related to cause problems), not because of her personality.

‘She is always in danger,’ Elinor said heavily, ‘though she does not know it.’

Lucius finally crossed to a chair, trying to buy time as he grappled with this cryptic response. He was well settled in the chair and could find nothing else to stall with by the time he gave up.

‘I am at a loss to understand your meaning,’ he said formally, rolling his cane between his hands and trying to look extremely cold to offset his failure to comprehend.

Elinor’s lips twitched upward. ‘You couldn’t. I have never told anyone what I am about to tell you. It is a secret I have borne alone ever since Pansy was conceived.’

He frowned. Narcissa had once confided that he thought Pansy had been conceived out of wedlock--what else explained Peyton and Elinor’s sudden wedding after only a month’s engagement?--but Peyton would have been party to _that_ secret, since he would have been half of the cause.

‘I once believed it was a secret I would be forced to carry for the rest of my life.’ She looked up at him from under her lowered lashes. ‘I was born into this society the same as you. I know only too well the prejudice, the ostracism that blood traitors must bear.’

Things were _not_ becoming clearer.

‘You aren’t considered a blood traitor,’ Lucius protested.

‘No, because I keep my secrets.’ She tilted her head, considering him. ‘But you do not. You openly declare yourself for Harry Potter. He has your affection and your loyalty. You have no fear of the other Death Eaters?’

Lucius eyed her narrowly. ‘I have a few allies among them.’

Not as many, or as trustworthy, as he hoped his tone conveyed to her.

She seemed pleased by this response. ‘I wondered. You wouldn’t have been so bold without some measure of support--you never were a fool.’

He chose not to correct her supposition that he’d collected allies _before_ openly siding with Harry.

‘You have power, you have connections, you have one of the most secure properties in all of wizarding Britain,’ Elinor went on. ‘And _you_ have sided with the half-blood.’

Lucius wished she would get to the point already.

‘That is why I can trust you with Pansy,’ she said, and her tone gave the sentence more weight than it should have had.

He waited. Elinor looked back at him steadily.

The Knut dropped.

‘Pansy isn’t--’

He cut himself off. Neither of them had cast privacy charms of any kind, and who knew who might be listening.

Elinor nodded once, her eyes wet. ‘She doesn’t know. I was young and in love. I didn’t realise until I knew I was pregnant--I couldn’t put her through that.’

Lucius could imagine. Elinor and Peyton had married scarcely six months out of Hogwarts, but Elinor had disappeared from society right after, until she resurfaced engaged to him. She must have been off with a Muggle-born wizard, or perhaps even a Muggle--for love, for teenaged rebellion, the reasons mattered little--and the reality of raising a half-blood child alone in their world had set in. To raise a half-blood was a struggle enough, but as a single mother? Their world would not have been kind to mother _or_ daughter. In their society, the sins of the parent were forever visited upon the child.

‘Peyton?’

Elinor’s smile was shark-like. ‘He’s a fool. But there is a resemblance between us.’

She crinkled her upturned nose--Lucius couldn’t help but return her smile as he realised. In many ways, she and Peyton looked like siblings. It would be easy enough for her to explain away any features that didn’t quite match either of them, if Peyton ever got suspicious.

‘You have my word,’ he said with a respectful nod. ‘For both of you.’

Her smile turned relieved and she rose. ‘Thank you, Lucius.’

She clasped his hand in both of hers, her eyes shining, and left.

Lucius poured himself a glass of wine and decided not to leave his study for the remainder of the evening. Every time he entered a room these days, the world got just a little crazier.

.

\------------------

.

Things remained tense throughout the next day, but since the adults didn’t seem to be angry with _them_ , Harry and Draco did their best to be quiet and out of the way. Remus hadn’t appeared to look after them that morning, but Narcissa was home and checked in on them from time to time, so Harry was very surprised when Remus arrived late that afternoon.

‘Have you come for dinner, Moony?’ Draco asked excitedly as soon as the older wizard walked in.

Remus hummed distractedly. ‘Hmm? Oh, I suppose. I need to talk to Harry first.’

‘Okay, but make it quick, we’re in the midst of a campaign,’ Draco said, waving his arm expansively to encompass all of the toys that had set up as part of their ever-growing war for the Morgan le Fay chocolate frog card.

‘Alone, Draco,’ Remus said with unusual terseness. ‘Harry, come.’

Harry was quick to obey, scrambling to his feet and following his honourary uncle out. Remus led the way out to the terrace, where he cast a few charms that Harry wasn’t familiar with and then stood with his hands braced against the stone railing, glowering across the lawn at the hedges. Harry tentatively sidled up to him. The stone was hot under his hands, even though it was shaded by the house now--it had been a bright, hot day. Draco would have asked to go swimming if Narcissa hadn’t been so upset.

‘Did you go and see Sirius today?’ Harry asked at last, when the silence was making him squirm.

Remus’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t look at Harry. ‘Yes.’ His fingers tightened on the railing. ‘Harry, I have something to tell you.’

Harry resisted the urge to take a step back. ‘Okay….’

‘I am a werewolf.’

Harry considered this. Narcissa did not approve of werewolves--she said they should be kept away from people, so they couldn’t hurt them. Professor Snape said they ought to be exterminated. Lucius had declined to give an opinion, since they were in the middle of a lesson about something else when Harry asked, but he had mentioned that there was a potion that helped werewolves keep control of themselves so they wouldn’t hurt anyone--but he hadn’t seemed like he liked them very much, either. Harry had struggled with this, too, wondering if not liking werewolves was part of being a Death Eater and if that was another reason why he shouldn’t like his cousins. It was very hard, especially when Narcissa, despite how upset she was today, had brought them milk and biscuits and cakes and let them eat as much as they liked. How could they be bad people but still be so good to him? He didn’t understand it. It wasn’t at all like bad people were supposed to be. Bad people were bad to everyone, that’s why it was so easy to spot them…right?

‘Well, that explains a lot,’ Harry said. ‘I thought you had cancer and had to get chemo every month, and that meant you were going to die.’

Remus shot him a shocked look then, but his lips twisted like he was trying not to smile. ‘I’m not going to die. Not anytime soon, anyway.’

‘Oh, good,’ said Harry, hopping up onto the railing. ‘So do you have to chain yourself to a rock every month so you won’t eat people?’

‘Essentially,’ Remus said, and he couldn’t keep the smile at bay any longer. ‘I’m surprised you’re taking this so well.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the general reaction is somewhat…less than enthusiastic.’

‘Oh.’ Harry frowned. ‘Why did you decide to tell me now? Did you decide you could trust me not to tell anyone?’

‘Oh, no. It’s not that,’ Remus said, his expression turning troubled again. ‘I just want you to know that I am being completely honest with you. I’m not going to hide anything from you, I promise.’

‘Okay….’ This conversation was one of the stranger ones he’d been a part of. ‘What’s going on?’

Remus sighed. ‘I did see Sirius today. He and I talked for quite some time, in fact.’

‘Is he angry with you?’

‘Surprisingly, no. As it turns out, he thought _I_ was the traitor in the first place, so there were no hard feelings on either side. Neither of us is the traitor and we forgave each other for thinking so.’

‘So you’re friends again?’

‘Yes.’

‘And he knows you’re a werewolf, too?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, good. You need friends.’

Remus heaved another sigh, rubbing his brow. ‘Harry, I’m trying to explain something to you. It’s very difficult….’

Harry waited for a moment, but Remus didn’t continue, just kept rubbing his brow. He was growing impatient, even though he knew Lucius wouldn’t approve. He felt like everything was a big secret lately and nobody wanted to tell him anything and he didn’t like it.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said petulantly, kicking the railing. ‘What’s so difficult? What does Sirius Black have to do with me? I know he’s Narcissa’s cousin, but that’s to do with her, not me.’

‘He has everything to do with you, Harry.’ Remus laid a hand on his knee. ‘He’s your godfather.’

Harry tilted his head, considering this. ‘So?’

‘ _So_ he has a legal right to you, given to him by your parents,’ Remus said slowly, studying Harry’s face.

That didn’t sound good.

‘A _right_ to me?’ Harry repeated. ‘What does that mean?’

He couldn’t take Harry away from the Malfoys, could he? His heart pounded at the thought. He may have his doubts about how his cousins treated other people, but they had always been good to _him_ \--they loved him, and he loved them, and he didn’t want to leave!

‘He can’t take me away, can he?!’ Harry demanded, panicking.

Remus nodded. ‘I’m afraid he can. He has the right to take custody of you at any time he chooses. The healers have cleared him mentally, and physically he’ll be considered well enough to care for you by the time the Ministry finished filing his claim--it will probably be a month or so after he files it. He has not done so yet, as far as I know.’

Harry leapt off of the railing, but Remus caught his arm before he could bolt back into the house. Helplessly, he beat at the older wizard’s arm.

‘No! No, I won’t go! I don’t want to leave! I don’t even know Sirius, I don’t want to live with him, let me go!’

‘Harry, stop it! _Harry_ , listen to me!’ Remus shouted, giving him a little shake.

Harry went still, breathing shakily and swiping ineffectually at the tears on his cheeks. He felt trembly and sick and he just wanted to go hide somewhere so no one could make him leave.

‘You want to stay here, with the Malfoys?’ Remus asked sharply, not loosening his grip.

He nodded, tamping down on a sob. His doubts meant nothing at the thought of leaving them. He loved them.

‘Then I will do everything I can to help you.’

Harry’s heart skipped and he looked up with new hope. ‘R-really?’

Remus’s grip relaxed. ‘Yes. I don’t know how much I can do, but I’ll do whatever I can--I’ll tell Sirius that you’re happy where you are, and I’ll testify to the Ministry that you’re well-treated and happy. I don’t know if it will do any good, but I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to help you stay.’

Harry gaped at him for a moment, then flung himself at Remus, hugging him fiercely around the waist, sobbing his thanks. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was something.

.

\-------------

.

Lucius was watching from the window of his study as Lupin comforted Harry, aching to go to Harry and telling himself he wasn’t, when his father arrived unannounced.

‘The werewolf is here again,’ Abraxas said without preamble, sneering. ‘I don’t like it.’

‘Then you hadn’t better join us for dinner,’ Lucius snapped, turning from the window reluctantly. ‘What do you want?’

Abraxas sniffed, gripping the back of one of the chairs with both hands as he glared at Lucius. ‘I taught you manners, once upon a time. You think you’re too old for me to take you over my knee again?’

‘Parents are supposed to lead by example. You might try knocking before entering a room. Perhaps then I would remember my manners better.’

Abraxas’s eyes went colder than ever and his spine stiffened, and Lucius had to wonder at his own sanity that he was willingly provoking his father.

‘Your mother ruined you,’ the old man hissed. ‘I told her she was spoiling you beyond all hope, but she wouldn’t listen. Now look at you. Weak-willed and useless, just as though you were some half-blood scum like that boy you’ve taken in.’

Lucius kept his expression bland. He had no desire to let his father see how angry it made him to hear Harry insulted--or how much his father’s disappointment in him still hurt, long after it shouldn’t have mattered anymore.

‘I had hoped that pushing you into being the head of the family might toughen you up,’ Abraxas went on coldly. ‘I thought the responsibility of looking after this house and this family’s name and reputation might temper you with steel. I never thought it would turn your mind away from your duty to the future of the name Malfoy.’

‘I haven’t turned from it,’ Lucius said, and tried to keep his voice light.

Abraxas snorted. ‘Weak-willed. Weak-minded. I thought better of you--I thought you might influence those fools at the Ministry to return to the pure-blood ways, not that _they_ would influence _you_ with their stupidity.’

Lucius’s patience wasn’t much these days, and he snapped again before he could stop himself. ‘It is stupidity to refuse to adapt! I _am_ looking to this family’s future--I want the Malfoy name to be around for generations to come, and the only way to ensure that is to change with the times. If you hadn’t noticed, our current course is doing nothing to preserve us, only to destroy us. How many more family lines must die out before you see our danger? How many more like the Rosiers before you see that the Dark Lord’s way is not the _best_ way?’

His father’s face had turned white. ‘How-- _dare_ you! To speak so of Him!’

‘He is not here,’ Lucius said flatly. ‘He cannot save us. I have to do what I think is best.’

‘Is that so?’

Abraxas’s sneer deepened and he shook with barely contained rage, his hands so tight on the back of the chair that Lucius thought he might break it off.

‘I, too, must do what I think is best. The Dark Lord’s way is not the _best_ way--it is the _only_ way! And there is a way to bring him back to us so that he can lead us back to strength. I shall see to it.’

He turned on his heel and swept out of the room.

Lucius told himself he wasn’t trembling just a little and tried not to imagine what his father had in mind.


	22. Abraxas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore makes an appearance; Lucius makes a decision and prepares to face the consequences; Abraxas makes his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew.... This has gone through three rewrites, but I, at least, am finally pleased with it. Hopefully you will be, too. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always, and special thanks to everyone who comments! Feedback of any kind is always welcome. :) Enjoy!

After dinner, Lucius retired to his study again--he felt somewhat guilty, as the boys had been very somber and quiet despite Lupin’s presence, but he had just had too much thrown at him the past few days. He couldn’t bring himself to go cheer them up, so he thought it best to let them keep to themselves in their playroom. Perhaps they would cheer each other up.

Then there was Narcissa--he hardly dared to speak to her at the moment. She was distraught at the thought that her newly freed cousin might take Harry away from her, and first Lucius’s failure and then her own to secure an audience with Sirius had only made her emotional state that much worse. She was clearly trying to keep it together for the boys’ sake at dinner, but she retired to her rooms as soon as it was over. Lucius left her to it, since it meant she was near the boys anyway, even if she wasn’t in the same room.

He had just settled into his chair with a glass of wine and a book when the fire in his hearth turned green.

‘I’ve had enough visitors for the next ten years, thank you. I’ve listened to mad rants, wild theories, and heard secrets I never wanted to hear. Whatever it is, I don’t want to know,’ he said, refusing to look up from his book.

‘I am not here to impart any secrets or theories, Lucius.’

He started, nearly spilling his wine.

The head of Albus Dumbledore, of all people, was sticking out his fireplace.

‘Do you mind if I come in?’ Dumbledore asked politely after a moment of silence. ‘This position is not terribly comfortable once you reach my age, I’m afraid.’

Lucius made an effort to pull his mental faculties back together and reluctantly allowed Dumbledore passage. So much for the other Death Eaters’ ‘impregnable fortress’ ideal of Malfoy Manor.

‘Thank you, Lucius,’ Dumbledore said after he had emerged and cleaned himself up. ‘This is much better. Do you mind if I sit?’

Lucius wordlessly waved him toward a chair.

‘Thank you again. I had always heard the Malfoys were consummate hosts, and it is lovely to see evidence of it.’

He couldn’t tell if Dumbledore was being sarcastic or not, but either way, he had no patience for it.

‘What do you want, Dumbledore?’ he asked flatly.

He was too exhausted and had been thrown for too many loops to muster up any outrage or disdain. He just wanted the old man to say whatever he had come to say and leave.

Dumbledore hesitated, arranging his beard in his lap. ‘I have come to apologise.’

Lucius blinked. ‘For what?’

‘For taking the evidence I had collected to the Child Welfare Office. I regretted having to do so, and I am sorry.’

A pause. There were too many reasons for Dumbledore to give evidence of any kind against the Malfoys to make such an apology plausible. It was possible that he felt guilt for having to stoop to what his moral scruples might deem low tactics, but that was not the same as regretting the actual act of submitting the evidence.

‘No, you are not. What do you want?’

Dumbledore nodded slowly. He didn’t speak for a while, gathering his thoughts, and Lucius forbade himself to squirm or speak. He wouldn’t let Dumbledore get the better of him here, in _his_ territory.

‘You may, of course, choose not to believe me,’ Dumbledore began with gravity that Lucius found unusual for him, ‘when I tell you that I am here on Harry’s behalf, and even a little for your benefit.’

Lucius scowled. ‘ _My_ benefit? How so? And I must confess that I find it difficult to believe that you have any concern for Harry’s welfare at all, given your determination to return him to the Dursleys.’

‘That determination has wavered in light of recent events. My only desire is to see young Harry safe--and he will be, under Sirius’s care.’

He bristled. ‘And not under mine, you believe. Has anything happened to him thus far? No. Harry is the very picture of a happy, healthy child--you may see him for yourself, if that is what it will take to convince you.’

Dumbledore smiled faintly. ‘I have no doubt of your care for the boy’s welfare. Whatever your motives, no one could have failed to notice that--the _Prophet_ has seen to that.’

‘Is that not enough?’

‘You were never a fool, Lucius,’ he chided gently. ‘Don’t play at being one now.’

Lucius’s fingers tightened on the edge of his desk. ‘I am not. I have no intention of allowing any harm to come to Harry--from _any_ quarter.’

‘Intentions and results are not always the same.’ Dumbledore leaned forward, his eyes intent. ‘Can you guarantee his safety against every Death Eater free in our country? Can you defend against _every_ threat that may arise?’

Lucius remembered his father’s cold eyes and shivered, dread coursing over him like a bucket of ice water. Dumbledore sat back, having obviously noted it, and he cursed himself.

‘I am not out to destroy you. If you withdraw your claim on Harry, I will withdraw the evidence against you. I ask only that, if you truly care for the boy, you think of what is best for him,’ Dumbledore said almost gently, ‘and not for you. That is what I have been trying to do--perhaps take that as warning enough about the best of intentions, given what we have learned of the Dursleys.’

He lowered his eyes in an apparent dismissal of the old man--but he couldn’t get Abraxas and his implied threats out of his mind.

‘I understand. Take your time. Think it over--only remember that Sirius will not wait forever,’ Dumbledore added, and quietly excused himself.

Lucius checked the wards and his study after the old wizard had gone, but could find no evidence of any tampering. Possibly Dumbledore really had come simply to talk about Harry--or else he had simply hidden his tampering beyond Lucius’s skill to detect. If he had, there was nothing Lucius could do about it.

He recognised this for the avoidance it was and forced himself to face his thoughts head on--Harry, and Abraxas, and his father’s threat to resurrect his lord. He had no idea how, but he knew that there were ways, Dark ways that Lucius wouldn’t dare to attempt.

But Abraxas would. May possibly be gathering what he needed to make such an attempt, since he had left the grounds this morning without informing anyone.

What if he succeeded? What if the Dark Lord _did_ return? Lucius was mostly confident in his ability to keep Harry safe from threats from the other Death Eaters, given such allies as he had, and providing that he never relaxed his guard--but Lucius knew that he, even with his allies at his back, was no match for the Dark Lord. The chances of his allies remaining by his side if the Dark Lord returned were slim, but it made no difference to his survival either way. He honestly wouldn’t blame them for deserting him when presented with the returned Dark Lord.

So it was a foregone conclusion that when the Dark Lord returned, he would murder Lucius as a traitor--well, actually, he would torture him extensively first, but Lucius _would_ eventually die--and likely Narcissa and Draco as well, and then Harry would be alone before him. What chance would an eight-year-old boy stand against the Dark Lord?

Harry had caused him to vanish once before, but he had only been a baby at the time--he didn’t remember doing it, and what were the odds that he could do it again? Whatever had caused Harry to survive and the Dark Lord to vanish, without knowing what it was, there was no guarantee that it would happen again.

Lucius had two realisations with clarity that he hadn’t enjoyed in weeks:

One, that he had to get Harry away from here to keep him safe.

Two, that he had to stop Abraxas, at any cost, even if he had to kill him, even if he had to die in the process.

.

\--------------------------

.

He found Narcissa in her study, writing a letter. She looked up with a stilted smile when he entered.

‘Lucius.’ The false smile quickly faded as she took in his expression. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Dumbledore came to see me,’ he said flatly.

She blanched. ‘What?’

Lucius didn’t answer, crossing to the windows instead.

‘Lucius, what did he want? What did he say?’

He felt…he didn’t know what he felt. It was one thing to know it, it was another to say it. He could hardly breathe, let alone speak.

But he _must_ do this.

For Harry’s sake.

‘I think…we must concede your cousin’s claim, after he files it with the Ministry.’

She didn’t speak for a long while, and he couldn’t bear to look at her.

‘What? What has Dumbledore done to you?’ Her voice was shrill and breathy, and when he finally turned to face her, he saw that she was gripping her desk with both hands, her chest heaving. ‘What did he say to make you say such a mad thing?’

‘He hasn’t done anything,’ Lucius said quietly. ‘It isn’t mad. It’s the only way to keep Harry safe.’

Narcissa’s mouth worked soundlessly. ‘ _We_ can keep him safe! We _have_ done so, all these months! What has changed?’

‘Abraxas. He is working to resurrect the Dark Lord. He told me so himself. He means to remove Harry, one way or another.’

She absorbed this. ‘Then we will move elsewhere and take the boys with us! There are other options, Lucius, you’re simply panicking and not thinking of them!’

‘And then what?’ he demanded. ‘We move across the country, across the ocean, across the _world_ \--and my father brings back the Dark Lord, who _you know_ will be obsessed with Harry. He will have to prove, once and for all, to his followers that what happened was a fluke, and he will do that by pursuing Harry to the ends of the earth--are we to run for the rest of our lives? What will that do to the boys? No--Harry must be sent elsewhere, to the protection of someone who _wasn’t_ a Death Eater in the past and therefore steers clear of them. And I must stop my father. Only then will he be safe.’

Her eyes narrowed, her lips trembling with fury. ‘I think you’re a fool, Lucius Malfoy, swayed by Dumbledore like one of his cronies. You remove _your_ claim, but not mine. I’ll take the boys to my sister’s tomorrow afternoon, after the house elves have packed our things. Harry is _mine_ , whatever you may say, and I won’t give him up for anyone--not even for you.’

Lucius shook his head. ‘Narcissa, please listen--Harry will never be safe until--’

‘I don’t care!’

He was holding himself together through sheer force of will. He was losing his family--but to keep them was a death sentence for all of them. Perhaps it was better if they went to Andromeda--the Tonkses were part of Dumbledore’s group. Surely he would shield them once Harry, Draco, and Narcissa were away from Lucius and under their care instead.

And he wouldn’t have to worry about any of them on his hunt to keep the Dark Lord from returning.

‘I told you he wasn’t our son,’ he said coldly. ‘I told you not to get attached.’

Before he could blink, she was across the room and his cheek was burning, his head snapped to one side from the force of her blow.

‘He _is_ my son, as much as Draco,’ she said in a low voice, and her eyes burned with hatred. ‘Get out. I never want to see you again.’

Lucius offered her a slight bow and obeyed, leaving her study silently.

He didn’t allow himself to think on it, only on the fact that they would all be safe.

He sat up for most of the night watching the gate. Abraxas returned at two o’clock in the morning with a small bundle under his arm and disappeared into his lair.

.

\---------------------

.

Lucius was awakened by an owl early the next morning, tapping at his window. He was glad of it, for a moment, as it took his mind off of everything temporarily.

Only temporarily, because the letter was from the Administrator of the Child Welfare Office, summoning him to meet with her as soon as possible. It could only mean one thing--Sirius had finally filed his claim for Harry.

Lucius obeyed the summons as soon as he was dressed. He couldn’t stomach anything to eat, and he had no desire to bear these tidings to Narcissa, not when she was already feeling murderous toward him. He trusted her to look after the boys for an hour or so--Abraxas had got in so late it was doubtful he would do anything but sleep for today anyway.

.

\----------------------

.

Harry woke early. He hadn’t got much sleep that night--Narcissa was so obviously upset last night when she tucked them in that his stomach had hurt for most of the night, tense with anxiety. The adults had all been so upset for so long that the atmosphere of the house wasn’t comforting. He kept hoping that it would resolve soon, but it only seemed to be getting worse.

It was too light out for him to go back to sleep, so he slid out of bed and tiptoed across to Draco’s room. It was all dark and quiet--unsurprisingly, Draco was still asleep.

Shaking his head, Harry padded back to his bedroom and started dressing for breakfast. It wouldn’t be too long before Narcissa came to wake them anyway, and he liked to be ready when she arrived. It always pleased her when he was up and dressed when she thought he was still sleeping. Every little pleasure counted when everyone was so upset lately.

As he emerged from his bedroom, dressed and as presentable as possible, he felt a strange prickle on the back of his head, like the hairs were standing up. Frowning, he turned back toward the bathroom to see if they were, in fact, standing up and if he could get them to lie flat again, and that was when the door to his sitting room opened.

‘I’m not--’

Harry’s voice cut off even though he hadn’t stopped speaking--a spell! He couldn’t make a sound, and he registered that it was Abraxas standing in the doorway, his wand drawn and a tight, somber expression on his face. Harry’s heart pounded in his chest and he started to run to his bedroom.

Another spell knocked him off his feet, keeping his legs locked together. Abraxas crossed the room and hauled him up by his elbow.

‘That’s enough of that,’ he said, almost to himself, and started dragging Harry back across the sitting room, toward the doorway.

Harry twisted in his grip, trying to escape, but the older wizard was stronger than he looked. Harry tried to calm himself, his mind racing through what Professor Snape had taught them. What should he do?

He wasn’t quite certain it was the right thing that Professor Snape would have done, but it might work anyway, so he quickly attempted it--he let himself go completely limp, becoming dead weight. Abraxas hissed with frustration, looking around to see if anyone was stirring, and he bent over to haul Harry back up with both hands.

That was what he’d been waiting for. As Abraxas bent down, Harry popped up, ramming his head into Abraxas’s face. There was a crunch and Abraxas let out a muffled cry, instinctively releasing Harry as his hands flew to his face. Harry rolled away from him, onto his knees, and hopped to his feet to continue hopping down the hallway, toward the stairs and Narcissa, his hands out for balance.

He didn’t make it far before another spell hit him, this time one that made ropes appear around him and bind him until he couldn’t do much more than wriggle.

Abraxas was shaking with rage when he caught up to Harry and grabbed one of the ropes to carry him, but Harry was a little proud to see that the old man’s face was covered in blood from his nose, which was blackened and swelling already.

‘Stop making things difficult,’ Abraxas snarled.

Harry did not have the option of answering.

They made it to the top of the stairs at the same moment as Narcissa. Harry’s heart leapt to see her, hopeful of rescue.

Abraxas pointed his wand at her. ‘Out of my way, woman. This doesn’t concern you.’

Narcissa had been shocked at first, staring speechlessly at them, but now her wand was in her hand so fast that Harry hadn’t seen her grab for it.

‘Release him at once!’

Abraxas flicked his wand, sending a spell at her, but she snapped her wand to the side and it fizzled out at it reached her. Harry quickly lost track after that, as it quickly turned into a full-fledged battle, with the two adults slinging spells at one another so rapidly that he couldn’t keep up. Instead, he turned his attention to wriggling in the ropes, trying to squirm loose, and hoping that Lucius or Remus would arrive to help soon.

.

\-------------------

.

Draco woke to the sound of spellfire. Alarmed, he leapt out of his covers and raced out into the hall. It took him a moment to understand what he was seeing. His mother was on the top step, duelling with his grandfather, who was trying to press her back with his spells. Harry was bound on the floor at Abraxas’s feet. They were both amazing--he had never seen them duel in a full fury like this--but his mother was hampered by trying not to hit Harry. Abraxas wasn’t shielding him at all, so any spells sent his way might hit him. Narcissa had to be careful of that, while Abraxas did not, and it was giving him an advantage. Her expression was growing desperate.

A sensible person would have gone for help, but Draco was not an altogether sensible boy, and the idea never occurred to him. His first instinct was cowardly--to run back into his room and hide under the bed.

However, as he watched the battle, two things happened to Draco. One he was not aware of--deep in his subconscious, the idea of his grandfather hurting two of the people he loved most in the world awakened his courage for the first time. The other was very conscious, and it was because of _The Last Unicorn_. As they read, he admired the prince, Lír, more and more, and desired to become knightly and fight dragons, real ones, not the toys in his playroom, like the prince did in the book. He wanted to be brave and respected, too. This, his childish mind felt, was his moment.

The combination of his desire to be braver and the awakening of his courage sent him running--not to the safety of his own room, but into Harry’s sitting room. He ran straight to the windowsill, where the wands of Harry’s deceased parents rested. Draco hesitated a moment, but instinct or some other force guided his hand to the one on the left. Snatching it up, he ran back out into the hall and brandished it.

‘You leave them alone!’ he cried, and shouted the only duelling spell he knew. ‘ _Stupefy_!’

‘Draco, no!’ his mother called out.

The wand liked him and obeyed his command, but he was still young and untrained, so the red spell that shot out of the wand was weak and poorly aimed. Abraxas knocked it aside easily.

‘ _Stupefy_!’ he shouted back.

Draco had no idea how to block a spell, and he wasn’t quick enough to dodge, though he tried.

Everything went black.

.

\-----------------------

.

Lucius knew something was wrong as soon as he set foot in the entrance hall. The air smelled of smoke and the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickled with the electric feeling of magic after a battle.

He tossed his cloak aside and ran toward the boys’ wing of the house. He skidded to a halt at the base of the stairs--Narcissa lay there, her eyes shut. He dropped down beside her and felt for a pulse with trembling fingers. It was there--thready and uneven, but there. He couldn’t tell just by looking at her what she’d been hit with, but the faint feel of magic around her made him wary of trying to revive her with the usual spell.

‘Oh, Narcissa,’ he breathed. ‘I shouldn’t have left you.’

She didn’t answer, of course.

‘DOBBY!’

_CRACK_!

‘Yes, Mas--’

‘Dobby, I want you to go to Remus Lupin, somewhere on the edge of our grounds, and get him inside, tell him wand at the ready--then I want you to fetch Severus, I need him to tend to Narcissa.’

Dobby rapidly nodded and disappeared with another crack. Lucius carefully levitated his wife back to her bed, but when he emerged into the hall to head down to the boys’ rooms, his heart skipped a beat and he couldn’t breathe.

‘DRACO!’

He ran to his son, sliding to the floor beside him. His hands shook as he quickly examined him. Tears of relief welled in his eyes when he found a strong, steady pulse and no other sign of injury. He almost couldn’t see to get his wand out, his fingers fumbling, but he managed it.

‘ _Ennervate_!’

Draco’s eyes opened and it was the most beautiful thing Lucius had ever seen in his life.

‘Papa?’ Draco said sleepily, as he had when he was a very small boy.

Lucius smoothed his hair and shushed him. ‘It’s all right, Draco, I’m here.’

‘Mother--and Harry!’ Draco said as memory washed over him, struggling to sit up. ‘Grandfather has Harry, Father, you’ve got to save him!’

Lucius helped him up, only now registering the wand on the floor. His own was still in his hand--it was one of the wands that had belonged to Harry’s parents. Even with the fresh panic Draco’s information set loose, he couldn’t help but feel a small moment of pride that his son had tried to help. It was foolish and Lucius would _definitely_ have to punish him for putting himself in danger like that later, but for now, he was proud.

‘I’ll take care of it, Draco, I’ll save him, I promise,’ he said quickly, breathless with fear for his other boy. ‘I need you to stay with your mother and help with anything Severus needs, all right? Promise me.’

Draco nodded, his eyes wide. ‘Yes, Father.’

‘Good. She’s in her room. Go!’

Draco scampered off, and Lucius turned on his heel and ran back down the stairs.

_CRACK_!

‘Dobby is bringing the wizards!’ Dobby said, running after Lucius as best he could. ‘Mister Remus Lupin is guarding the entrance hall and Professor Snape is with Mistress!’

‘Good, now get--’

Lucius stopped running as he realised something, and Dobby ran into the back of his leg. He hardly noticed that or Dobby’s effusive apologies.

‘Dobby, I need to get to Abraxas, right now,’ he interrupted.

Dobby’s eyes widened. ‘But the masters are telling Dobby never to go--’

‘I know what we said, but Abraxas has his wing warded against wizards,’ Lucius cut him off again, impatiently. ‘I could break through, but that would take time. I don’t have time right now--but you’re not a wizard, you’re a house elf-- _you_ can get through in an instant.’

Dobby was visibly torn, tears welling in his huge eyes. Technically, he belonged to both Malfoy wizards, and one was telling him to break into the wing of the other.

‘But Dobby is not supposed to go into Master’s--’

‘Dobby, he has Harry.’

Dobby’s tears dried up, and Lucius was a little terrified at the look on his ugly little face.

‘He will not harm Harry Potter!’ the house elf squeaked.

Lucius had never realised it was possible for the creatures to sound menacing.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, because a moment later, Dobby grabbed his robe and they Disapparated.

He stumbled when they landed, his eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness.

‘Where are we, Dobby?’

‘Master and Dobby is in Master’s parlour,’ Dobby whispered back. ‘This way, Master.’

Lucius clutched his wand a little tighter, his sweat making it feel a little less secure than he liked, and followed Dobby out into the hall. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he was disgusted to see the layers of filth this wing of the house had accumulated. Everything was dusty and mouldy and dank. He hadn’t realised that his father _never_ let the house elves in to clean.

They drew closer to where he vaguely remembered Abraxas’s study being, and he registered faint noises through the door.

‘Dobby.’

Dobby stopped and looked up at him.

‘When we get inside, I’m going to duel Abraxas and hopefully distract him. You grab Harry and get him out of here, all right? Take him to Severus, in case he needs healing.’

Dobby nodded, his ears flapping, and they silently edged up to the door.

_Please behave,_ Lucius entreated his wand, and blasted the door off its hinges.

Abraxas whirled at their entrance, away from Harry, who was tied to a chair and bleeding from a cut on his arm. There were tear tracks on his face, but he brightened at their entrance.

‘Back from the Ministry already?’ Abraxas said casually, but his countenance was not friendly and his wand was in his hand. He turned fully away from Harry and paid no mind to Dobby sidling away from Lucius, just as he’d hoped.

‘Demonstrably,’ Lucius replied. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Abraxas smiled, but never took his eyes off of Lucius’s wand. ‘Exactly what I promised you. I am restoring our glorious lord so that we no longer have to wait for him to return to us. I just needed a little blood from your half-blood wretch.’

‘You will regret touching my family.’

Lucius hoped he sounded bolder than he felt. Dobby was edging around the perimeter of the room, halfway across it now.

Abraxas’s smile curdled. ‘We shall see.’

A twitch of his wand sent a spell at Lucius, and after that, he was lost in a flurry of blocking and sending his own spells. He managed to wheel Abraxas away from Harry by feinting left, which reduced the chances of a stray spell hitting him and also carried the advantage of keeping Dobby’s activities out of Abraxas’s line of sight.

Lucius was sweating before long. His recalcitrant wand, while eager enough at first, was growing sluggish, forcing him to throw more power and will behind each spell just to make it work. It didn’t help that he was distracted by trying to monitor Dobby’s progress while keeping up with his father’s onslaught.

It seemed like ages before Dobby finally freed Harry of his bonds and whatever spells Abraxas had placed on him.

‘Mister Harry Potter, we must go! Master is ordering that we must go!’

Harry was keeping out of the house elf’s grip. ‘No, I want to help!’

‘Dobby must take Harry Potter away!’

Lucius blocked it out, focusing harder on the battle at hand. If Harry wouldn’t go to safety, then it was imperative that he defeat Abraxas.

He blocked a hex, sent a jinx, blocked a curse, and his wand sputtered when he tried to use the Disarming Spell.

Abraxas smiled and sent a Body-Bind.

Lucius’s wand did nothing when he tried to block.

He found himself frozen on the ground, staring at his triumphant father.

‘It’s odd, but I don’t regret touching them at all,’ Abraxas said mildly. ‘My only regret is that I never had a son. _Avada kedavra_!’

‘ _NO_!’

There was a flash of green light, and Harry, and then a blast that made everything go away.

.

\--------------------

.

He woke to the sound of someone crying. He could move again, which seemed strange for a moment.

He sat up.

Dobby was crying--wailing, really. Crouched beside a crumpled little body.

Lucius forced himself to his feet, even though he still felt stiff and dazed.

Harry.

‘No,’ he croaked, stumbling to Dobby’s side.

Harry didn’t move. His eyes were shut.

Lucius vaguely registered that he was shaking. His gaze drifted to his father, lying a few feet away.

Abraxas wasn’t moving, either, his eyes and mouth open in an expression of shock.

He felt no satisfaction in that, not with the price paid.

‘Harry Potter mustn’t be dead!’ Dobby sobbed, the first coherent thing he’d wailed since Lucius woke.

Sighing, he gently disentangled Dobby’s hands from Harry’s robes. It felt like someone else was doing it. It just wasn’t real, not yet.

It still wasn’t real as he gathered his boy, his second son, into his arms and smoothed his hair back as he had Draco’s not an hour ago.

Or had it been longer?

‘Harry,’ he breathed, because he couldn’t muster his voice.

Then came the miracle that Lucius did not deserve--Harry’s eyelids fluttered and he inhaled.

‘Da…?’ he mumbled.

Lucius clutched Harry to him and rocked him and was not ashamed of the tears that blurred his vision.

‘I’m here, Harry. I’m here.’

Dobby’s ears perked up. ‘Harry Potter is alive?’

Harry, who seemed to be gaining strength by the moment, opened his eyes and smiled crookedly at the soggy house elf.

‘Yeah, Dobby, I’m all right. Are you all right?’

Dobby burst into fresh tears and threw himself into Harry’s arms--and by extension, Lucius’s.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt destroyed by relief and joy and he didn’t care about anything but the fact that his family was alive.

Harry had survived the Killing Curse. Again. It had rebounded back at his attacker. How?

It didn’t matter. He was alive.

‘We’d better get you back upstairs so Severus can look you over,’ he said at last, because some part of him registered that they couldn’t just sit on the floor forever.

‘Okay,’ Harry said, and put his arms around his neck to be carried.

Lucius gladly obliged, and even allowed Dobby to cling to him, too. With his father’s death, the wards on his wing of the house had fallen, but he didn’t trust himself or Dobby to Apparate them, so he carried them both all the way back up.

‘Harry! Father!’ Draco ran over as soon as Lucius walked into Narcissa’s room. ‘What happened? Is he all right?’

Harry seemed to be all right now-- _How? How could this be?_ \--but he hadn’t let go of Lucius yet.

‘Yes, he’ll be all right,’ Lucius said quietly. ‘You go get Butch, I want all of you to be together today.’

Draco scampered off, and Lucius glanced down at his house elf thoughtfully.

‘You, too, Dobby. I want you to stay with Harry and Draco today.’

Dobby’s ears perked up, and he followed Lucius to help tuck Harry in. Harry didn’t seem interested in sleep, and neither did Draco and Butch when they arrived, but Lucius stayed to make certain the four of them were settled in bed anyway. As long as they stayed in here, together, he didn’t care what they did after he was gone.

‘Dobby is seeing to their foods and things,’ Dobby promised.

Lucius nodded and shut the door quietly behind him. It was only barely nine o’clock in the morning, but it felt like it was already night--so much had happened.

Lupin and Severus were both waiting in Narcissa’s room when he returned, but he had eyes only for his still, pale wife.

‘She’ll be all right in a few days, Lucius,’ Severus said with what passed for gentleness with him. ‘It was a rather nasty jinx, but I reversed it before any serious damage was inflicted. It’s more falling down the stairs that she’s recovering from at this point.’

Lucius looked at him sharply.

Severus shrugged uncomfortably. ‘From what Draco tells me, Narcissa and Abraxas were duelling at the top of the stairs. She was on the top step when he came out of his room to see what had woken him. She had to have fallen when he hit her with that curse.’

Lucius sat beside her on the bed and took her hand. He couldn’t muster the energy to say anything for the moment. He was too busy processing all that had happened in such a short amount of time.

‘What can I do, Lucius?’ Lupin spoke up quietly.

‘I need you to keep guard, but I’d rather you were in here,’ Lucius murmured, watching Narcissa’s chest rise and fall. ‘At the end of this hall.’

Lupin nodded and slipped out of the room.

Severus said nothing, so they sat in silence for a long while.

‘Abraxas is dead.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘He tried to kill me.’

‘I’m not surprised about that, either.’

Lucius was too exhausted to muster amusement _or_ annoyance. He looked at Severus.

‘Harry got between us. The curse rebounded.’

Severus’s eyes widened, and they lapsed into silence again.

Lucius took a breath, but hesitated before he spoke again. ‘I don’t want this getting out. I’ll fetch his wand later, but…. Can you tend to the body? Make it look like…I don’t know.’

Severus rose, nodding. ‘Dragon pox is easy enough to mimic.’

‘That will work. Just something I can tell the press.’

He was nearly out the door when Lucius remembered.

‘Oh, and Severus?’

He turned back scowling.

‘Afterward, write to Rodnuk on my behalf, please. Tell him I need to reserve a private room as soon as possible, and for him to keep that same slot open to act as witness.’

Severus’s scowl turned to confusion.

‘Blood adoption requires a goblin witness.’

The confusion cleared to be replaced by plain and open shock. ‘Have you spoken to Harry about it?’

‘Not yet. Later. He needs to rest, first.’

Severus nodded, and for once he had nothing snide to say.

‘Severus?’

A raised brow.

‘Thank you,’ Lucius said, with more sincere gratitude than he had ever openly offered Severus before.

He clearly recognised this, and his slight bow was not mocking in the slightest. He left without another word.

Lucius lay beside his wife and watched her sleep.


	23. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius and Severus clean up the mess; Dumbledore looks to the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and your patience. :) I am so touched that so many of you are sticking with this story and still enjoying it so much. Thank you for your support, you're wonderful.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Lucius woke to Narcissa’s panicked sobbing and Severus’s unusually gentle attempts to reason with her.

‘But the boys--he had them--he _took_ them--’

‘They’re all right, I promise. They’re in bed,’ Severus cut her off, his voice so soft and soothing that Lucius almost didn’t recognise it as his.

‘You’re just saying that so I’ll sleep,’ she snapped.

‘You do need to rest, but that doesn’t mean I’m lying.’

There was no undercurrent of exasperation, as Lucius would have expected. Apparently, Severus _did_ know how to be patient.

He was irrationally annoyed by the discovery.

‘I’ll go and get them, so you can see them,’ he said as he sat up, startling both of them. Narcissa gaped at him openly, so he slipped out before she could recover.

The boys were not sleeping, as expected. They were quietly playing chess while Dobby whispered hints in Harry’s ear. Butch was lying at Draco’s feet, fast asleep.

They all looked up when Lucius closed the door behind him.

‘Father,’ Draco greeted him softly, and came for a hug with considerably greater care and less energy than usual. ‘Is Mother all right? Has she woken yet?’

‘Yes, is she?’ Harry asked, his voice wobbling, and came for a hug of his own.

Lucius tried not to squeeze them too hard. He never wanted to let either of them out of his sight again.

‘Yes, she has woken, and she’s asking for you. She needs more rest, but she wants to see you both first, to be certain you’re all right.’

‘We won’t keep her long, then,’ Draco said with a decisive nod. ‘Will we, Harry? We’ll just talk to her for a bit, and we’ll be very quiet.’

Lucius tried not to smile, but gathered that he wasn’t very successful. ‘That sounds like an excellent plan.’

Draco led the way, marching like a little soldier. Lucius let him. He was tired of leading for a while.

‘Are you all right?’ Harry asked just outside of Narcissa’s door.

Lucius patted his shoulder. ‘Yes, I’m all right. Just tired.’

Harry nodded and followed Draco in.

Lucius stayed outside, respecting Narcissa’s last known wishes on the subject of his person. It wasn’t long before Severus emerged.

‘I have been waiting to contact the Aurors to collect his body until you woke,’ he said shortly. ‘I’ve done what I can to clean up the direct evidence, but there are massive amounts of Dark paraphernalia.’

‘Wait a little longer--I have a few things I’d like to collect, and a few things I’d like to have placed inside his wing, and then you can let them in.’ Lucius smiled grimly, starting toward the stairs a bit stiffly. ‘I can have them remove all of it and play innocent.’

Severus raised a brow at him. ‘Oh, dear me, I had no idea he was up to such naughty, naughty things?’

‘Precisely.’ His false smile failed. ‘Did you contact Rodnuk?’

‘Yes, and he’s readied a time for you in two days. Apparently, he’s very, very busy and has much better things to do than stand and watch as wizards do something silly with magic and then make him sign a parchment saying he watched it.’ Severus snorted. ‘Goblins.’

‘I’ll pay him and he won’t mind.’

‘He’ll still grumble and complain.’

‘Of course--he’s a goblin.’

They fell silent as they continued toward Abraxas’s wing. Lucius fully intended to have it destroyed after the Aurors were finished with it. Perhaps he could have a small stable built there instead, at least on part of it--the boys had talked often of Harry riding ponies with Neville, Draco wistfully, so he was certain they would enjoy having horses of their own. No winged ones, though--their brooms gave him headaches enough.

‘Are you going to speak to them about the adoption?’ Severus demanded just before the entrance to Abraxas’s wing.

Lucius searched for something snide to say, came up empty, and shrugged wearily. ‘Yes, after we’re through here--or when they wake, if they’re asleep when we’re finished.’

Severus nodded once and they went into the unpleasant murk.

.

\---------------

.

When he returned, the boys had returned to their game. He decided to let them be, for now. He wanted to clear this with his wife before he got their hopes up--not that he had any doubts of her response.

Narcissa was pretending to sleep. Lucius had known her for too long to be fooled.

‘I know that you expressed a desire to never see me again,’ he began in a tone he hoped was prim but rather thought was wavery and weak. ‘I respect that desire, but I have two pieces of news that I believe you should be aware of. One may even please you.’

There was no response, and she kept pretending to sleep. Daunting, but after facing a literal Killing Curse from his own father earlier…today? Yesterday? He was no longer sure of time. Either way, she would need to work a lot harder to intimidate him into leaving, after what he had been through.

‘First of all, there are Aurors in Abraxas’s wing of the house, certifying his death and searching out all of his Dark objects and books. Since there is evidence that his wing of the house was blocked from access while he was alive, we will not be facing any charges. Lupin has gone to see your cousin in the hospital while they’re here, as Moody is with them and could well report him to Dumbledore, if he spotted him.’

Still nothing.

‘Secondly, I have found a way for us to keep Harry, whatever your cousin may have to say about it. Blood adoption, which I’d quite forgotten about, would override any other claims. I’ve had Severus make--’

Narcissa had snapped into a sitting position, staring at him with large, clear eyes with such hope he nearly choked on his own words.

‘Oh, Lucius--truly?’ she breathed.

He nodded, once, shortly.

She threw herself across the bed, her arms encircling his neck, and wept. Lucius’s arms went around her and he closed his eyes for a moment, a weight lifting from his chest.

‘I shall take that as a yes.’

.

\------------------

.

Harry was losing, again, despite Dobby’s helpful advice, so he was somewhat relieved when Lucius appeared in the doorway for the second time that day. He looked ever so slightly less weary, but his expression still made Harry a little nervous.

‘Draco, your mother would like to speak to you.’

Draco dropped his rook, causing the piece to turn and scold him. ‘But I didn’t do anything!’

Lucius smiled faintly. ‘It’s nothing you’ve done wrong. She just wants to speak with you.’

‘Oh.’ Draco slid out of his chair and slouched toward the door, Butch at his heels. ‘Well, I’m winning, so don’t let Harry move any pieces while I’m gone!’

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Harry protested, but Draco was already gone.

Lucius sat in Draco’s place, still smiling faintly. ‘He is only concerned because that’s what he would do if he was losing and the other person left the room for a moment.’

Harry scowled. ‘I _knew_ I was winning earlier, but I had to go to the bathroom, and you called Dobby away for a minute.’

‘Yes, I needed him to help move a few things for me.’

His smile dropped and he rubbed his brow, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He even propped his elbow on the table, which was unheard of in this house.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Harry asked, setting his pawn down with considerably more care than Draco had shown.

Lucius made an attempt to muster the smile again, but Harry wasn’t at all fooled.

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ He glanced at Dobby. ‘Dobby, will you go and keep an eye on the Aurors, please, discreetly? I don’t want Moody poking anywhere he’s not wanted.’

Dobby nodded rapidly, his ears flapping. ‘Yes, Master, Dobby is going.’

With a crack, he disappeared, leaving them alone.

The clock ticked loudly.

‘What does Narcissa want to talk to Draco about?’ Harry asked, squirming a little.

‘She wants his permission for something, I--’ Lucius stopped, turning to study him carefully. ‘Harry, I have something to ask you, but first, there is something you need to know. I don’t want you to accept my offer only to regret it, years down the road, when you find out from someone else.’

Harry’s stomach twisted with anxiety. What could be so serious, so important? What offer? Did it have something to do with Abraxas, and what Harry had accidently done to him?

‘Okay,’ he said warily.

Lucius stared at him for a moment longer, his expression almost…sad. It was like he was never going to see Harry again and he wanted to memorise Harry’s face. It only made Harry more anxious, though he tried not to show it.

After a moment, though, he finally turned--and started unbuttoning his left sleeve? Harry stared in total confusion as his cousin started rolling it up.

The confusion only cleared a little when Lucius raised his forearm and laid it on the table where Harry could see. There was a faint, strange tattoo there of a snake and a skull.

‘You want me to get a tattoo?’ Harry asked uncertainly.

Was this a Malfoy thing?

Lucius’s expression twisted, apparently caught between amusement and horror at the idea. He didn’t speak for a moment, his lips pressed together as he struggled through that.

‘No. No, I do not want you to get a tattoo. Particularly not _this_ tattoo.’ He paused. ‘This is a Dark Mark.’

Harry’s eyes snapped back to the ‘tattoo.’ He had heard of the Dark Mark in connection with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, but he had never seen one.

He looked up. ‘So you _are_ a Death Eater.’

Lucius flinched.

But he didn’t deny it.

Harry sat and wondered what to do now. He loved his cousins--loved Lucius enough to have thrown himself between him and Abraxas, which, as Dobby and Draco had pointed out later, was not very smart at all, and Draco was convinced that Harry and Dobby had both misheard the curse Abraxas used, because there was no way Harry had survived the Killing Curse. Again.

Lucius had never tried to hurt him, so he probably wasn’t plotting to kill him, but he had still been part of the group led by the man who had killed Harry’s parents. That was still a sticking point, however nice he had been to Harry. He had wondered before if Abraxas had made him join--maybe that was what Lucius was trying to tell him now, that he had been forced?

‘Was it because Abraxas wanted you to?’ Harry asked directly.

He was tired of being confused and people not telling him things and he wanted Lucius to just lay it out and tell him exactly what he was there for.

Lucius still wouldn’t look at him, but he drew a slow breath and answered. ‘Yes. And no.’

Well, that was less than helpful. Harry scowled, but before he could protest, Lucius seemed to gather himself and spoke again.

‘I wanted his approval, and that was a deciding factor, but if you are implying that I became a Death Eater against my will, then I cannot honestly tell you that was the case.’ His voice dripped with bitterness and something else that Harry had never heard from him and couldn’t quite pinpoint. ‘Much as I would like to. Narcissa also wanted me to join, at the time, as her sister Bellatrix had already joined. That was also a factor. But the decision was mine, and I made it gladly. I was not forced or pressured or harassed into joining. I was proud to join.’

Harry recoiled. ‘Proud to join people who killed other people?’

Lucius nodded and his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Yes.’

He glanced at Harry and turned away again with open shame.

‘But…but _why_?’ Harry demanded helplessly.

He couldn’t reconcile the Lucius who rescued him, who took him in and educated him and fed him and clothed him properly and protected him, with the Lucius who would gladly join the Death Eaters and do the horrible things they did.

‘To build a better world,’ Lucius said with heavy irony and a bitter smile. ‘The pure-blood way is the only way, so we had to remove the scourge of the Muggles, starting with the Muggle-born population. We were…preserving our way of life. It wasn’t pleasant but it was necessary. That was how I thought of it.’

Harry shook his head, lost. ‘But…your way of life isn’t in danger. Muggle-borns come to Hogwarts and they learn to be wizards, isn’t that learning your way of life?’

‘But they also want to change things, to make them more similar to what they are accustomed to, to make them “operate more efficiently.” Change is a threat to our community. That is the way the pure-bloods feel. That is how I felt, until I met you.’

That stopped Harry’s train of thought like a brick wall. ‘Until you met me? What did I do?’

Lucius’s smile was real this time. ‘You were yourself.’

Harry scowled at him. ‘That doesn’t make any sense. You wanted to kill people until you met me and then I was me so you didn’t want to kill people anymore?’

He sighed, but he was still smiling fondly at Harry. ‘I didn’t _want_ to kill people--I thought I _had_ to. Meeting you proved to me that I did not. You’re a half-blood, but you’re just as much a wizard as any pure-blood I ever met. You think and say and do some strange things at times, but none of it does any harm to our way of life. You’re a part of our society, too, and you deserve a place in it. You and the other half-bloods and Muggle-raised are not scourges to be removed. You are our lost kin, to be welcomed home. I didn’t understand that until I met you.’ His lips quirked. ‘Not to mention that I didn’t understand until you made me take you to the zoo just how _many_ Muggles there are. For every one we killed, ten more would take their place. It’s a hopeless cause, and I have better things to do with my time.’

Harry did not share the humour Lucius apparently found in that. ‘So you’re not a Death Eater anymore?’

Lucius’s expression sobered. ‘No, I am not.’

‘And if the Dark Lord ever came back, you--’

Lucius shuddered. ‘May everything good in the universe prevent it, but--yes, if that were to happen, I would not return to him. My allegiance is to you and to the rest of my family, always. If it meant my death I couldn’t give you up for them.’

Harry didn’t answer right away, a little shaken by the vehemence and conviction in Lucius’s words.

‘Are you sorry?’ he demanded after a moment, his tone sharper and more defiant than he’d wanted.

Lucius stared at him.

‘Are you sorry for everyone you hurt? Are you sorry you killed people?’

His nod was slow. ‘Yes. I would undo it all, if it were in my power.’ He paused. ‘And while I had no direct involvement in your parents’ deaths, I am most sorry for that. I’m sorry for all that you have suffered, and I regret being a part of it. It is not an easy thing to admit that you have been wrong, that you have lived your life in a way that injures others, but I have. I admit it and can only hope for your forgiveness.’

Harry searched his expression, but he couldn’t find any sign of falsehood or mockery in Lucius’s face. He didn’t really know what to say to all of this. He had suspected--but he had hoped otherwise.

But regret went a long way. All the time he had been living at the Dursleys, he’d hoped that one day they would realise that they weren’t kind to him and that they would say they were sorry and they would try to do better. Even when he left, he’d been hoping, deep down inside him, that maybe, just maybe, Aunt Petunia would apologise to him as he left, tell him that she hoped he would be better off now. It hadn’t happened, of course, and he’d stopped dreaming about it a long while ago, but it was still a twinge inside him, sometimes, that just wanted to hear one of them say that they were sorry for what they had done.

Harry tapped the Dark Mark, ignoring Lucius’s automatic flinch. ‘Does this come off?’

‘Unfortunately not,’ Lucius said, rather glumly in Harry’s opinion. ‘The Dark Lord put it there, and so I would assume he is the only one who can remove it.’

Harry tilted his head. ‘You assume?’

‘He never removed one that I saw--if someone failed him hugely enough or turned against him, he didn’t go to all that trouble, he just killed them.’

‘Oh.’ He suddenly recalled that Lucius had worn a T-shirt to the zoo, and Harry hadn’t seen any marks on his arm. ‘Why didn’t I see this before, when I saw your arm?’

‘I put a glamour over it. I wasn’t certain what the Muggle reaction to a…tattoo would be.’

‘That depends on the Muggle,’ Harry said. ‘Uncle Vernon probably would have made rude comments at you, if he had seen it. Or thrown you out on the lawn, if you came to his house and he saw it.’

Lucius nodded absently, still staring at the Dark Mark with a bitter, sad sort of expression. Harry reached out and tugged his sleeve back down until it was covered up.

‘I am sorry, Harry,’ he said after a pause. ‘I didn’t understand a lot of things then. I wish I had.’

Harry frowned. ‘What did you want to ask me?’

Lucius opened his mouth and closed it again, and for a moment, Harry thought he wouldn’t come out with whatever it was, that he would make some excuse and leave.

He didn’t.

‘Narcissa and I want to adopt you, Harry. Is that all right?’

Harry stared at him with his mouth open. All thought had just dropped out of his brain the moment Lucius handed him the thing he most wanted in the world.

Lucius shifted uncomfortably after a moment. ‘If you don’t want to--’

Harry shot around the table and into Lucius’s lap, hugging him so hard he probably couldn’t breathe.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Yes, please!’ Harry cried, and promptly burst into tears.

.

\-----------------

.

Draco’s mother was oddly tentative when he returned at her request, asking him how they were getting on and if they’d eaten lunch and other questions she’d already asked when they visited the first time. It was strange and annoying, but Draco chalked it up to her still recovering from that jinx. Severus had said it was a nasty one, so her brain was probably still fuzzy.

‘Mother, I already had lunch, I just told you,’ he said for the third time, huffing and trying not to roll his eyes at her.

Narcissa looked surprised for a moment, then smiled somewhat sheepishly and patted his hand. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I’m just a bit distracted. I have something very important to ask you, and I don’t know quite how to begin.’

He frowned. ‘Well, just ask. You’re still recovering, Mother, I promise not to get too upset, whatever it is. And I might not get upset at all--you don’t know until you ask.’

She seemed amused by that. ‘Quite true. Very well, then. Draco, how would you feel about your father and I adopting Harry?’ A nervous expression passed over her face, although she kept smiling as though to reassure him. ‘Would you like him to be your brother?’

Draco sat on the edge of the bed, tilting his head. ‘You can do that?’

‘Yes, we can.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Then why didn’t you do that already? What have you and Father been doing the last few months?’

She sputtered out a laugh. ‘It was a bit more complicated before, Draco darling.’

‘I don’t see how,’ he said irritably, although he tried his best to stay calm so as not to upset her. ‘Anyway, yes, do. I thought you were trying to do that already, or I would have told you to. Harry’s part of the family, and it will be _much_ easier to introduce him when he’s officially my brother and not just a cousin who’s living with us.’

She laughed again and pulled him close, resting her forehead against his. ‘Oh, Draco. All right. I will let your father know.’

She kissed his forehead. Draco let her, since no one was watching. Plus, she was still hurt--he was just being a good son and humouring her, that was all.

.

\-----------------

.

Dumbledore sat by the window of his office and tried not to brood as he listened to Alastor’s report of his findings at Malfoy Manor. Plenty of Dark books and objects, as expected from a Malfoy. The fading traces of the many wards Abraxas had placed on his section of the house--it would have been like trying to break out of Azkaban to get in. A pack readied for travel in one corner, but no sign or note of where he had intended to go. Abraxas himself had apparently died of dragon pox--but in the middle of the floor. What had he been doing out of bed? How had he got all the way to his lab from bed?

‘And one other thing that I thought was fishy,’ Moody said, leaning forward with his magical eye spinning. ‘The elder Rosier was found dead this afternoon as well.’

‘They were both old enough that that isn’t particularly suspect, Alastor,’ Dumbledore said with an indulgent smile. Alastor’s paranoia was sometimes amusing.

But Moody shook his head. ‘His hand was missing.’

Dumbledore’s smile dropped. ‘Missing?’

‘Aye. Looked to have been chopped off--according to St Mungo’s he likely would have died in the next few days anyway, as his health was failing, but as it is, he bled out. He was smiling when they found ’im.’

His mind rapidly flew through possibilities, half-grasping thoughts only to let them slide away again as they were deemed irrelevant.

‘Was there anything else in Abraxas’s lab? Anything it looked like he might have brewed with?’ he demanded.

Moody shook his head. ‘Lucius is crafty. Did a good job cleaning up after him.’

Dumbledore was half-convinced of his answer, he just needed _proof_ \--Lucius was the least of his worries at the moment. ‘Did you see Harry? Had he been cut anywhere?’

‘I didn’t see him. Lucius wouldn’t let anyone but Snape near the boy.’

‘Fetch Severus immediately.’

Moody started to go, but there was no need, as Severus arrived at that moment. Dumbledore admitted him and was pleased that Severus always seemed to know when he was needed.

‘Severus,’ he began at once, cutting off Severus’s somber greeting, ‘Alastor tells me you tended to Harry this morning. Why did Lucius need you to tend him?’

Severus’s brow furrowed with confusion. Dumbledore didn’t want to wait for that to clear, either.

‘Was Harry cut anywhere?’

Severus hesitated, his lips parting. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. He touched the inside of his forearm. ‘A small cut, just there. Easily tended. Why?’

Dumbledore sat back heavily, feeling the weight of his years and their stares.

‘Albus?’ Alastor prompted, much more gently than was usual for him.

He sighed. ‘Abraxas Malfoy was attempting to make a potion that would have resurrected Voldemort.’

Severus flinched almost imperceptibly.

Alastor’s mouth fell open. ‘Just like that? A hand and a bit of Potter’s blood and poof! You-Know-Who’s back?’

Dumbledore’s brows rose. ‘Unlikely. The pack you found indicates that he was probably gathering the supplies he needed before setting off to find Voldemort’s shade, somewhere in the world. With the hand of a loyal servant such as Rosier’s, and Harry’s blood taken by force, and one other thing, he might have succeeded. I have my doubts that he would have found the third ingredient he was seeking, but it is possible.’

They were both quiet for a long moment.

‘Well, he’s too dead to try anything,’ Alastor said, hunching his shoulders. ‘Do we have to worry about anyone else trying the same thing?’

He pursed his lips. ‘It’s a rare potion, Alastor, but there are always possibilities. The foremost worry on that count would be Lucius taking up his father’s work, but….’

Severus arched a brow but said nothing.

‘I don’t think we have anything to fear from that quarter,’ Dumbledore admitted finally, tugging the end of his beard. ‘Lucius has become quite devoted to Harry. I think he would be more interested in preventing such an occurrence. In fact, Abraxas’s sudden death may have something to do with Lucius discovering his father’s endeavours.’

Moody just grunted, but Severus’s mouth drew up in a smirk.

‘Then you don’t believe that he died of dragon pox?’

‘How many deaths by dragon pox occur out of the sick bed? He should have been bedridden for weeks beforehand,’ Dumbledore pointed out. ‘Harry’s minor injury in connection with the discovery of Rosier’s hand leads me to believe that Lucius had a hand in his father’s death, in an effort to protect Harry.’

‘Should I report your suspicions, Albus?’ Alastor asked.

‘No. If I am incorrect, then it’s stirring up trouble for nothing. If I am correct, then Harry _is_ safe for the time being, and Lucius’s admirable attempt to protect him should not be punished.’

Alastor grumbled a bit about that--he, evidently, did not find anything Lucius did admirable and was quite happy for him to be punished. Dumbledore hid a smile at the grumbling. He had little use for Lucius himself, as the younger wizard had been in a thorn in his side for years now, but he had proved, in Dumbledore’s estimation, to be adequate protection for Harry until Sirius had his housing arrangements finalised.

No, Dumbledore had larger worries on his mind than Lucius Malfoy, such as the fact that the potion Abraxas had been preparing for his journey to meet Voldemort would require a piece of Voldemort’s soul to work, and while there were many ways to crack or break a soul, there were very few ways to anchor the pieces, and he found none of the options comforting.

.

\-------------------

.

The next day, Remus returned to Malfoy Manor with a bruised, scratched face. They were eating lunch in Narcissa’s room when he arrived, sheepishly shuffling inside at Narcissa’s invitation.

Harry blinked at him and nearly dropped his biscuit in his lemon squash. ‘What happened to you?’

The Malfoys all looked varying shades of surprised, too. Remus had arrived with a few scratches now and then--after full moons, Harry now understood--but this wasn’t that time.

Remus’s smile was grim. ‘I’ve been to see Sirius.’

‘Is he any better?’ Narcissa asked with what Harry thought was genuine concern.

‘I’m afraid not--and it’s my fault.’

‘What happened?’

‘I tried to ease him into the idea of the adoption.’ He looked at Harry, his smile becoming faintly real for a moment. ‘I assured him how happy you are.’

Harry tried to smile back, but dread of what came next dragged the corners of his mouth down.

‘When I told him that you and Lucius plan to adopt Harry, he attacked me.’

‘You duelled?’ Draco asked with a hint of excitement, despite his attempt to appear aloof.

‘No, he just jumped me,’ Remus said ruefully. ‘He doesn’t have a wand and I wasn’t fast enough to get to mine. Fortunately, the healers arrived before it got too far. They had to peel him off me, and he was still screaming that he’d kill me when they put him under.’

‘What then?’ Narcissa asked softly. ‘What will they do with him?’

Remus sighed, and Harry reached over and touched his hand when he saw the tears in his eyes. Remus mustered another smile for him.

‘They are moving him to a different ward. They tell me it will be a long, long time before he is mentally stable enough to rejoin the world. Azkaban was hard on him.’

‘Then…Harry…?’ Lucius began hesitantly.

Remus shrugged. ‘I’m not an expert, but as far as I know, godfather or not, if he’s not sane enough to leave the hospital, they’ll never clear him to take custody of Harry, adoption or no.’

Harry shot a furtive look at Lucius, wondering if now he would change his mind. If he didn’t _have_ to adopt Harry in order to keep him….

To his surprise, Lucius didn’t glance at him or appear to consider that at all, he just nodded with a concerned frown.

‘I hope they’ll be able to help him,’ he said respectfully. ‘I know he’s your friend.’

Remus inclined his head in thanks.

‘Will you be coming by to celebrate with us tomorrow?’

‘Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to intrude,’ Remus said with a more natural smile for Harry. ‘This is a time for you to be together as a family.’

Lucius accepted that and invited him to join them at their casual lunch around Narcissa’s bed, and that Remus accepted, joining Draco and Harry in their cross-legged position at the foot of the bed.

.

\-------------------

.

At noon the following day, Lucius led the way to the private room Rodnuk had set aside for them. Narcissa was still weak and stayed in bed, and Draco had glumly agreed to stay behind and keep her company. Their presence or absence was immaterial--the magic would know whether they agreed or not regardless.

Rodnuk was waiting for them with his grouchiest face.

‘You’re late,’ he snapped.

‘Always,’ Lucius replied breezily. ‘The papers are ready, I presume?’

Rodnuk waved toward the table. ‘Your solicitor dropped them off this morning, and I have perused them. They are acceptable for your spell’s purpose, and they don’t bind Gringotts to any unusual agreements, so we have no issue with them.’

‘Good.’

Harry was fidgeting at his side.

With a fond smile, Lucius got down on one knee and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Harry, we don’t have to do this, if you’ve changed your mind.’

Rodnuk let out an irritated scoff, but Lucius ignored him.

Harry smiled, anxiety and hope and perhaps a bit of nausea warring for his expression. ‘No, I want to….’

Lucius squeezed his shoulder with a genuine grin and rose. ‘Let’s begin, then.’

There wasn’t much to it, really. The important thing was the spell which determined whether all parties were truly in agreement. Lucius’s solicitor had taken care of that as well, and Rodnuk had checked to ensure that it was done properly (which he also grumbled about), and the enchanted quill lay on the table beside the papers. Lucius didn’t bother to have Harry read them, as they merely outlined the usual terms for an adoption. The important part was the lines at the bottom with their names printed underneath, awaiting their signatures. Rodnuk signed on the witness line first and roughly gestured for Harry to pick up the quill afterward, but he hesitated for a moment, fidgeting and looking up at Lucius.

‘Is it going to hurt?’ Harry asked with wide eyes.

Lucius smiled and squeezed his shoulder. ‘Not at all. It will feel like a chill, except warm, and then it will be over.’

‘How will we know if it worked?’

He indicated the bottom of the parchment, where there was a blank line without a name underneath it.

‘Once we’ve signed and we feel the chill, then the quill will write on its own. If it writes denied, then it means the magic has felt that someone in our family has doubts, and the adoption will be called off. If it writes accepted, then it will be official.’

That made Harry look even more nervous, but after a moment, he set his shoulders and reached for the quill. His handwriting had vastly improved, Lucius noted with some pride. Once Harry was finished, Lucius took the quill from him and quickly dashed his own name on its designated line. As soon as he dropped the quill back on the table, Harry drew a sharp breath, and not a second later, Lucius felt the same thrill--like a warm tendril racing up his spine.

The sensation faded, and for a breathless moment, nothing happened.

Then the quill rose, hovered in the air for a second, and quickly scribbled across the parchment: _accepted_.

Harry blew out a huge breath, and Lucius couldn’t contain himself--he dropped to his knees and pulled his new son into a hug. Harry returned it without hesitation. Lucius dimly registered Rodnuk storming out, his job as a witness through. That was fine with him, because then there was no one to see if he and Harry shed a few--inherently manly, of course--tears.

‘All right?’ Lucius asked, a little stuffily, when Harry finally pulled away, wiping his face on his sleeve.

‘All right,’ Harry agreed hoarsely.

They both pretended not to notice when they each went for their handkerchiefs.

‘Well,’ Lucius said cheerfully after they had regained some of their dignity. ‘Shall we go home? I believe Draco was going to order the house elves to bring some ice cream to celebrate.’

Harry grinned, bouncing on his toes. ‘Oh, yes! Let’s go!’

Draco was waiting for them at Narcissa’s door when they returned, and even Narcissa was sitting up and craning her neck to see around him.

‘Well?’ Draco demanded. ‘Did it work?’

Harry nodded. ‘Yes, you’re my brother. No getting out of it now,’ he added cheekily.

Draco let them pass with an imperious sniff. ‘You mean _you_ can’t get out of it now. Remember, I’m almost two whole months older than you, so I’m the eldest and you have to mind me.’

He looked as though he relished the prospect. Harry just rolled his eyes.

‘Whatever you say, brother,’ he said good-naturedly.

Narcissa got tears in her eyes then and insisted that Harry and Draco sit on either side of them where she could fuss over them as they ate their ice cream. Lucius settled at the end of the bed and listened contentedly as his sons cheerfully debated the merits of strawberry ice cream versus chocolate ice cream.

Personally, he favoured strawberry, but he had a little of both to keep both of his sons happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTE**
> 
>  
> 
> This is the end of the _first arc_ of the story. There is a second arc, beginning with the boys heading off to Hogwarts. If you're not interested in that, this is a good spot for you to consider the story finished. If you want to continue to follow (and I hope you do!), then I will be updating again by September 30 (assuming no crises pop up) to begin the second arc of the story. :) I hope you will take a minute to share your thoughts, either way! Thank you for reading! :)


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